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Don Quixote 





THE ADVENTURES OF 
DON QUIXOTE 


By 

MIGUEL DE CERVANTES 
\\ 


Adapted by 

EDWIN GILE RICH 

Author of “Why-So Stories,” etc. 



BOSTON 

SMALL, MAYNARD & COMPANY 
PUBLISHERS 



COPTBIGHT, 1921 

Bt Small, Maynard & Company 
(Incorporated) 


}CT -<! 192? 

g)Gl.AG27090 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER PAGE 

I. The Quality and Manner of Life of Our Renowned Hero 3 

II. The First Sally that Don Quixote Made From His Native 

Village 8 

III. The Pleasant Method Don Quixote Took To Be Dubbed 

a Knight 14 

IV. What Befell Our Knight After He Left the Inn ... 22 

V. How Our Knight Returned Home 31 

VI. Don Quixote’s Success in the Dreadful and Never-Before- 

Imagined Adventure of the Windmills .... 42 

VII. Of What Befell Don Quixote with the Goatherds . . 53 

VIII. The Adventures of the Two Armies 76 

IX. The Adventures of Little Hazard 85 

X. The Grand Adventure and Rich Prize of Mambrino’s 

Helmet 95 

XI. How Don Quixote Set at Liberty Several Unfortunate 

Persons 101 

XII. Of What Befell the Renowned Don Quixote in the 

Mountains . . ^110 

XIII. The Story of Cardenio 123 

XIV. The Strange Things that Befell the Valiai^t Knight of 

La Mancha in the Mountains 131 

XV. Sancho’s Journey to the Lady Dulcinea 144 

XVI. The Last of the Story of Cardenio 151 

XVII. The Story of Dorothea . 161 

XVIII. The Pleasant Plan to Persuade Don Quixote Not to 

Continue His Penance 169 

XIX. The Journey to the Inn 178 


PAGE 


CHAPTER 

XX. The Conversation Which Passed Between Don Quixote 

and His Squire Sancho Panza 190 

XXI. What Befell at the Inn 202 

XXII. The Strange Enchantment of the Unfortunate Knight 205 

XXIII. Further Extraordinary Adventures in the Inn 212 

XXIV. The Dispute Concerning Mambrino’s Helmet and the 

Pannel is Decided 218 

XXV. Further Adventures of the Good Knight 227 

XXVI. The Notable Quarrel Between Sancho Panza and Don 

Quixote’s Niece and Housekeeper 238 

XXVII. Of the Famous Adventure of the Enchanted Bark 243 

XXVIII. Many and Sundry Events 251 

XXIX. The Instructions Which Don Quixote Gave to Sancho 

Panza Before He Went to His Government . . . 262 

XXX. How the Great Sancho Panza Took Possession of His 

Island 268 

XXXI. The Return 281 


THE ADVENTURES OF 
DON QUIXOTE 



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CHAPTER I 


THE QUALITY AND MANNER OF LIFE OF 
OUR RENOWNED HERO 

S EVERAL hundred years ago, so the Spanish writer, 
Miguel de Cervantes, tells us, there lived down in 
a village of La Mancha, in Spain, a gentleman 
who usually kept a lance upon a rack, an old buckler, a lean 
horse and a coursing grayhound. Soup, composed of some- 
what more mutton than beef, the fragments served up cold on 
most nights, lentils on Fridays, eggs on Saturdays, and a 
pigeon by way of addition on Sundays, consumed three-fourths 
of his income; the remainder of it supplied him with a cloak 
of fine cloth, velvet breeches, with slippers of the same for 
holidays, and a suit of the best homespun, in which he adorned 
himself on week-days. His family consisted of a housekeeper 
about forty, a niece not quite twenty and a lad who served 
him both in the field and at home, who could saddle the horse 
or handle the pruning-hook. The age of our gentleman 
bordered upon fifty years; he was of a strong constitution, 
spare bodied, of a meagre visage, a very early riser and a lover 
of the chase. Some pretend to say that his surname was 
Quixada, or Quesada, for on this point his historians differ; 
though from very probable conjectures, we may conclude that 

[3] 


THE ADVENTURES OF DON QUIXOTE 

his name was Quixana. This is, however, of little importance 
to our history. 

Be it known, then, that the afore-mentioned gentleman, in 
his leisure moments, which composed the greater part of the 
year, gave himself up with so much ardor to the perusal of 
books of chivalry that he almost wholly neglected the exercise 
of the chase, and even the regulation of his domestic affairs; 
indeed, so extravagant was his zeal in this pursuit that he sold 
many acres of land to purchase books of knight-errantry, ^ 
collecting as many as he could possibly obtain. 

He often debated with the curate of the village, a man of 
learning, who was the greatest knight of chivalry. In short, 
he became so infatuated with this kind of study that he passed 
whole days and nights over these books; and thus, with little 
sleeping, and much reading, his brains were dried up and his 
intellect deranged. His imagination was full of all that he 
had read — of enchantments, contests, battles, challenges, 
wounds, courtships, tortures and impossible absurdities; and 
so firmly was he persuaded of the truth of the whole tissue of 
visionary fiction that in his mind no history in the world was 
more authentic. The Cid Ruy Diaz, he asserted, was a very 
good knight, but not to be compared with the Knight of the 
Flaming Sword who, with a single back stroke, cleft asunder 
two fierce and monstrous giants. He was better pleased with 
Bernardo del Carpio, because at Roncesvalles he slew Roland 
the Enchanted by availing himself of the stratagem employed 
by Hercules upon Antaeus, whom he squeezed to death within 
his arms. 

In fine, his judgment being completely obscured, he was 

[4] 


THE ADVENTURES OF DON QUIXOTE 

seized with one of the strangest fancies that ever entered the 
head of any madman; this was a belief that it behooved him, 
as well for the advancement of his glory as the service of his 
country, to become a knight-errant, and traverse the world 
armed and mounted, in quest of adventures, and to practice 
all that had been performed by knights-errant of whom he had 
read; redressing every species of grievance, and exposing 
himself to dangers which, being surmounted, might secure to 
him eternal glory and renown. The poor gentleman imagined 
himself at least crowned emperor of Trebizond by the valor 
of his arm; and thus wrapped in these agreeable delusions, 
and borne away by the extraordinary pleasure he found in 
them, he hastened to put his designs into execution. 

The first thing he did was to scour up some rusty armor 
which had been his great-grandfather’s, and had lain many 
years neglected in a corner. This he cleaned and adjusted as 
well as he could; but he found one grand defect; the helmet 
was incomplete; this deficiency, however, he ingeniously 
supplied by making a kind of vizor of pasteboard, which gave 
the appearance of an entire helmet. It is true, indeed, that 
in order to prove its strength, he drew his sword and gave it 
two strokes, the first of which instantly demolished the labor 
of a week; but not altogether approving of the facility with 
which it was destroyed, and in order to secure himself against 
a similar misfortune, he made another vizor, which, having 
fenced in the inside with small bars of iron, he felt assured of 
its strength, and without making any more experiments, held 
it to be a most excellent helmet. 

In the next place he visited his steed; and although this 

[ 5 ] 


THE ADVENTURES OF DON QUIXOTE 


animal had many faults, yet, in his eyes, neither the Buceph- 
alus of Alexander, nor the Cid’s Babieca, could be compared 
with him. Four days was he deliberating upon what name 
he should give him; for, as he said to himself, it would be very 
improper that a horse so excellent, appertaining to a knight so 
famous, should be without an appropriate name; he therefore 
endeavored to find one that should express what he had been 
before he belonged to a knight-errant, and also what he now 
was: nothing could, indeed, be more reasonable than that, 
when the master changed his state, the horse should likewise 
change his name, and assume one pompous and high-sounding, 
as became the new order he now professed. So after having 
devised, altered, lengthened, curtailed, rejected, and again 
framed in his imagination a variety of names, he finally deter- 
mined upon Rozinante, a name, in his opinion, lofty, sonorous 
and full of meaning. 

Having given his horse a name so much to his satisfaction, 
he resolved to fix upon one for himself. This consideration 
employed him eight more days, when at length he determined 
to call himself Don Quixote. Then recollecting that the 
valorous Amadis, not content with the simple appellation of 
Amadis, added thereto the name of his kingdom and native 
country, in order to render it famous, styling himself Amadis 
de Gaul; so he, like a good knight, also added the name of his 
province, and called himself Don Quixote de la Mancha; 
whereby, in his opinion, he fully proclaimed his lineage and 
country, which, at the same time, he honored by taking its 
name. 

His armor being now furbished, his helmet made perfect, 

[ 6 ] 


THE ADVENTURES OF DON QUIXOTE 

his horse and himself provided with names, he found nothing 
wanting but a lady to be in love with ; for a knight-errant with- 
out the tender passion was a tree without leaves and fruit. 
‘Tf,” said he, ‘‘for my sins, or rather, through my good 
fortune, I encounter some giant — an ordinary occurrence to 
knights-errant — and overthrow him at the first onset, or 
cleave him in twain, or, in short, vanquish him and force him 
to surrender, must I not have some lady to whom I may send 
him as a present.^ that when he enters into the presence of my 
charming mistress he may throw himself upon his knees before 
her, and in a submissive, humble voice, say, ‘Madam, in me 
you behold the giant Caraculiambro, lord of the island Malen- 
drania, who, being vanquished in single combat by the never- 
enough-to-be-praised Don Quixote de la Mancha, am by him 
commanded to present myself before you, to be disposed of 
according to the will and pleasure of your highness.’ ” How 
happy was our good knight after this harangue! In a neigh- 
boring village a good-looking peasant girl resided. And this 
was the lady whom he chose to nominate mistress of his heart. 
He then sought a name for her, which, without entirely depart- 
ing from her own, should incline and approach toward that of 
a princess or great lady, and determined upon Dulcinea del 
Toboso, a name he thought harmonious, uncommon and 
expressive — like all the others which he had adopted. 


[ 7 ] 


CHAPTER II 


THE FIRST SALLY THAT DON QUIXOTE MADE 
FROM HIS NATIVE VILLAGE 

A S soon as these arrangements were made he no 
longer deferred the execution of his project, which 
he hastened from a consideration of what the 
world suffered by his delay: so many were the grievances he 
intended to redress, the wrongs to rectify, errors to amend, 
abuses to reform, and debts to discharge ! Therefore, without 
communicating his intentions to anybody, and wholly un- 
observed, one morning before day, being one of the most sultry 
in the month of July, he armed himself, mounted Rozinante, 
placed the helmet on his head, braced on his target, took his 
lance, and through the private gate of his back yard issued 
forth into the open plain, in a transport of joy to think he had 
met with no obstacles to the commencement of his honorable 
enterprise. But scarce had he found himself on the plain 
when he was assailed by a recollection so terrible as almost to 
make him abandon the undertaking: for it just then occurred 
to him that he was not yet dubbed a knight; therefore, in 
conformity to the laws of chivalry, he neither could nor ought 
to enter the lists against any of that order; and if he had been 
actually dubbed, he should, as a new knight, have worn white 

[ 8 ] 


THE ADVENTURES OF DON QUIXOTE 


armor, without any device on his shield until he had gained 
one by force of arms. These considerations made him irreso- 
lute whether to proceed; but he determined to get himself 
made a knight by the first one he should meet, like many others 
of whom he had read. As to white armor, he resolved, when 
he had an opportunity, to scour his own so that it should be 
whiter than ermine. Having now composed his mind, he 
proceeded, taking whatever road his horse pleased; for therein, 
he believed, consisted the true spirit of adventure. 

Our new adventurer, thus pursuing his way, conversed 
within himself, saying, as if really in love, “O Dulcinea, my 
princess ! sovereign of this captive heart ! greatly do you wrong 
me by a cruel adherence to your decree, forbidding me to appear 
in the presence of your beauty! Deign, O lady, to think on 
this enslaved heart, which for love of you endures so many 
pangs!” 

In this wild strain he continued, imitating the style of his 
books as nearly as he could, and proceeding slowly on, while 
the sun arose with such intense heat that it was enough to 
dissolve his brains, if any had been left. He travelled almost 
the whole of that day without encountering anything worthy 
of recital, which caused him much vexation, for he was 
impatient for an opportunity to prove the valor of his powerful 
arm. 

As night approached both he and his horse were wearied 
and dying with hunger; and in this state, as he looked around 
him in hopes of discovering some castle, or shepherd’s cot, 
where he might repose and find refreshment, he descried, not 
far from the road, an inn. He made all the haste he could, 

[ 9 ] 


THE ADVENTURES OF DON QUIXOTE 


and reached it at nightfall. There chanced to stand at the 
door two young women on their journey to Seville, in the 
company of some carriers who rested there that night. Now, 
as everything that our adventurer saw and conceived was, 
by his imagination, moulded to what he had read, so in his 
eyes the inn appeared to be a castle, with its four turrets, and 
pinnacles of shining silver, together with its drawbridge, deep 
moat, and all the appurtenances with which such castles are 
usually described. When he had advanced within a short 
distance of it he checked Rozinante, expecting some dwarf 
would mount the battlements to announce by sound of trumpet 
the arrival of a knight-errant at the castle; but finding them 
tardy, and Rozinante impatient for the stable, he approached 
the inn door, and there saw the two girls, who to him appeared 
to be beautiful damsels or lovely dames enjoying themselves 
before the gate of their castle. 

It happened that, just at this time, a swineherd, collecting 
his hogs from an adjoining field, blew the horn which assembles 
them together, and instantly Don Quixote was satisfied, for 
he imagined it was a dwarf who had given the signal of his 
arrival. With extraordinary satisfaction, therefore, he went 
up to the inn; upon which the ladies, being startled at the 
sight of a man armed in that manner, with lance and buckler, 
were retreating into the house; but Don Quixote, perceiving 
their alarm, raised his pasteboard vizor, thereby partly dis- 
covering his meagre, dusty visage, and with gentle demeanor 
and placid voice thus addressed them: “Ely not, ladies, nor 
fear any discourtesy, for it would be wholly inconsistent with 
the order of knighthood, which I profess, to offer insult to any 
[ 10 ] 





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THE ADVENTURES OF DON QUIXOTE 

person, much less to damsels of that exalted rank which your 
appearance indicates.” The girls stared at him, and were 
endeavoring to find out his face, which was almost concealed 
by the sorry vizor; but hearing themselves called damsels, 
they could not forbear laughing, and to such a degree that Don 
Quixote was displeased, and said to them: ‘‘Modesty well 
becomes beauty, but excessive laughter, proceeding from a 
slight cause, is folly: but I say not this to humble or distress 
you, for my part is no other than to do you service. ” 

This language, so unintelligible to the ladies, added to the 
uncouth figure of our knight, increased their laughter; conse- 
quently he grew more indignant, and would have proceeded 
further but for the timely appearance of the innkeeper, a very 
corpulent, and therefore a very pacific man, who, upon seeing 
so ludicrous an object, armed, and with accoutrements so ill- 
sorted as were the bridle, lance, buckler, and corselet, felt dis- 
posed to join the damsels in demonstrations of mirth; but 
in truth, apprehending some danger from a form thus strongly 
fortified, he resolved to behave with civility, and therefore said : 
“If, Sir Knight, you are seeking for a lodging, you will here 
find, excepting a bed (for there are none in this inn), everything 
in abundance.” Don Quixote, perceiving the humility of 
the governor of the fortress, for such to him appeared the inn- 
keeper, answered, “For me. Signor Castellano, anything will 
suffice, since arms are my ornaments, warfare my repose.” 
To which the innkeeper replied, “If so, your worship’s beds 
must be hard rocks, and your sleep continual watching; and 
that being the case, you may dismount with a certainty of 
finding here sufficient cause for keeping awake the whole year, 

[ 11 ] 


THE ADVENTURES OF DON QUIXOTE 

much more a single night.” So saying, he laid hold of Don 
Quixote’s stirrup, who alighted with much difficulty and pain, 
for he had fasted the whole of the day. He then desired the 
host to take especial care of his steed, for it was the finest 
creature that ever fed; the innkeeper examined him, but 
thought him not so good by half as his master had represented 
him. Having led the horse to the stable, he returned to receive 
the orders of his guest, whom the damsels were disarming: 
they had taken off the back and breast plates, but endeavored 
in vain to disengage the helmet, which he had fastened with 
green ribbons in such a manner that they could not be untied, 
and he would upon no account allow them to be cut; therefore 
he remained all that night with his helmet on, the strangest 
and most ridiculous figure imaginable. 

While these girls, whom he still conceived to be persons of 
quality and ladies of the castle, were disarming him, he said to 
them with infinite grace, ‘‘Never before was knight so honored 
by ladies as Don Quixote, after his departure from his native 
village! Damsels attended upon him; princesses took charge 
of his steed ! 0 Rozinante — for that, ladies, is the name of 

my horse, and Don Quixote de la Mancha my own, the time 
shall come when your ladyships may command and I obey; 
when the valor of my arm shall make manifest the desire I have 
to serve you.” The girls, unaccustomed to such flourishes, 
made no reply, but asked whether he would please to eat any- 
thing. “I shall willingly take some food,” answered Don 
Quixote, “for I apprehend it would be of much service to me. 
Let it come immediately, for the toil and weight of arms 
cannot be sustained by the body unless the interior be supplied 
[ 12 ] 


THE ADVENTURES OF DON QUIXOTE 

with aliments. ” For the benefit of the cool air, they placed 
the table at the door of the inn, and the landlord produced 
some of his ill-soaked and worse-cooked fish, with bread as 
foul and black as the knight’s armor: but it was a spectacle 
highly laughable to see him eat; for his hands being engaged in 
holding his helmet on, he could not feed himself, therefore one 
of the ladies performed that office for him; but to drink would 
have been utterly impossible, had not the innkeeper bored a 
reed, and placing one end into his mouth, at the other poured 
in the wine; and all this he patiently endured rather than cut 
the lacings of his helmet. 

In the meantime there came to the inn a swineherd, who, 
as soon he arrived, blew his pipe of reeds four or five times, 
which finally convinced Don Quixote that he was now in some 
famous castle, where he was regaled with music; that the 
bad fish was trout, the bread of the purest white, the strolling 
damsels ladies of distinction, and the innkeeper governor of the 
castle; consequently he remained satisfied with his enterprise 
and first sally, though it troubled him to reflect that he was 
not yet a knight, feeling persuaded that he could not lawfully 
engage in any adventure until he had been* invested with the 
order of knighthood. 


CHAPTER III 


THE PLEASANT METHOD DON QUIXOTE TOOK TO 
BE DUBBED A KNIGHT 

A gitated by this idea, he abruptly finished his 
scanty supper, called the innkeeper, and shutting 
himself up with him in the stable, he fell on his 
knees before him and said, “Never will I arise from this place, 
valorous knight, until your coiu-tesy shall vouchsafe to grant a 
boon which it is my intention to request: a boon that will 
redound to your glory and to the benefit of all mankind.’^ 
The innkeeper, seeing his guest at his feet, and hearing such 
language, stood confounded, and stared at him without know- 
ing what to do or say: he entreated him to rise, but in vain, 
until he had promised to grant the boon he requested. “I 
expected no less, signor, from your great magnificence, ” replied 
Don Quixote; “know, therefore, that the boon I have demanded, 
and which your liberality has conceded, is that on the morrow 
you will confer upon me the honor of knighthood. This night 
I will watch my arms in the chapel of your castle, in order that 
in the morning my earnest desire may be fulfilled, and I may 
with propriety traverse the four quarters of the world in quest 
of adventures for the relief of the distressed; conformable to 
the duties of chivalry and of knights-errant, who, like myself, 
are devoted to such pursuits.” 

[ 14 ] 





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THE ADVENTURES OF DON QUIXOTE 

The host, who, as we have said, was a shrewd fellow, and 
had already entertained some doubts respecting the wits of his 
guest, was now confirmed in his suspicions; and to make sport 
for the night, determined to follow his humor. He told him, 
therefore, that his desire was very reasonable, and that such 
pursuits w^ere natural and suitable to knights so illustrious as 
he appeared to be, and as his gallant demeanor fully testified; 
that he had himself in the days of his youth followed that 
honorable profession, and travelled over various parts of the 
world in search of adventures. Finally he had retired to this 
castle, where he lived upon his revenue and that of others; 
entertaining therein all knights-errant of every quality and 
degree, solely for the great affection he bore them, and that 
they might share their fortune with him in return for his good 
will. He further told him that in his castle there was no 
chapel wherein he could watch his armor, for it had been pulled 
down in order to be rebuilt; but that in cases of necessity he 
knew it might be done wherever he pleased; therefore he 
might watch it that night in a court of the castle, and the 
following morning the requisite ceremonies should be per- 
formed, and he should be dubbed so effectually that the world 
would not be able to produce a more perfect knight. He then 
inquired if he had any money about him. Don Quixote told 
him he had none, having never read in their histories that 
knights-errant provided themselves with money. The inn- 
keeper assured him he was mistaken; for, admitting that it was 
not mentioned in their history, the authors deemed it unneces- 
sary to specify things so obviously requisite as money and clean 
shirts, yet was it not therefore to be inferred that they had 

[ 15 ] 


THE ADVENTURES OF DON QUIXOTE 

none; but, on the contrary, he might consider it an estab- 
lished fact that all knights-errant, of whose histories so many 
volumes are filled, carried their purses well provided against 
accidents; that they were also supplied with shirts, and a 
small casket of ointments to heal the wounds they might 
receive; for in plains and deserts, w^here they fought and were 
wounded, no aid was near unless they had some sage enchanter 
for their friend, who could give them immediate assistance 
by conveying in cloud through the air some damsel or dwarf, 
with a phial of water possessed of such virtue that upon tasting 
a single drop of it they should instantly become as sound as if 
they had received no injury. But when the knights of former 
times were without such a friend they always took care that 
their esquires should be provided with money, and such neces- 
sary articles as lint and salves; and when they had no esquires, 
which very rarely happened, they carried these things them- 
selves upon the crupper of their horse, in wallets so small as to 
be scarcely visible, that they might seem to be something of 
more importance; for except in such cases, the custom of 
carrying wallets was not tolerated among knights-errant. He 
therefore advised, though as his godson (which he was soon to 
be) he might command him, never henceforth to travel with- 
out money and the aforesaid provisions, and he would find 
them serviceable when he least expected it. Don Quixote 
promised to follow his advice with punctuality; and an order 
was now given for performing the watch of the armor in a large 
yard adjoining the inn. Don Quixote, having collected it 
together, placed it on a cistern which was close to a well; then 
bracing on his target and grasping his lance, with graceful 

[ 16 ] 


THE ADVENTURES OF DON QUIXOTE 

demeanor he paced to and fro before the pile, beginning his 
parade as soon as it was dark. 

The innkeeper informed all who were in the inn of the 
frenzy of his guest, the watching of his armor, and of the 
intended knighting. They were surprised at so singular a kind 
of madness, and went out to observe him at a distance. They 
perceived him sometimes quietly pacing along, and sometimes 
leaning upon his lance with his eyes fixed upon his armor for a 
considerable time. It was now night, but the moon shone with 
a splendor which might vie even with that whence it was 
borrowed, so that every motion of our new knight might be 
distinctly seen. 

At this time it happened that one of the carriers wanted to 
give his mules some water, for which purpose it was necessary 
to remove Don Quixote’s armor from the cistern ; who, seeing 
him advance, exclaimed with a loud voice, “O thou, whomso- 
ever thou art, rash knight ! who approachest the armor of the 
most valiant adventurer that ever girded sword, beware of 
what thou dost, and touch it not, unless thou wouldst yield thy 
life as the forfeit of thy temerity.” The carrier heeded not 
this admonition (though better would it have been for him if 
he had) , but seizing hold of the straps, he threw the armor some 
distance from him; which Don Quixote perceiving, he raised 
his eyes to heaven, and addressing his thoughts apparently to 
his lady Dulcinea, said, “Assist me, O lady, to avenge this 
first insult offered to your vassal’s breast, nor let your favor 
and protection fail me in this first perilous encounter.” 
Having uttered these and similar ejaculations, he let slip his 
target, and raising his lance with both hands, he gave the 

[ 17 ] 


THE ADVENTURES OF DON QUIXOTE 


carrier such a stroke upon the head that he fell to the ground 
in so grievous a plight that had the stroke been repeated there 
would have been no need of a surgeon. This done, he replaced 
his armor, and continued his parade with the same tranquillity 
as before. 

Soon after, another carrier, not knowing what had passed, 
for the first yet lay stunned, came out with the same intention 
of watering his mules; and as he approached to take away the 
armor from the cistern, Don Quixote, without saying a word 
or imploring any protection, again let slip his target, raised his 
lance, and with no less effect than before, smote the head of 
the second carrier. The noise brought out all the people in 
the inn, and the landlord among the rest; upon which Don 
Quixote braced on his target, and laying his hand upon his 
sword, said, “O lady of beauty! strength and vigor of my 
enfeebled heart! Now is the time for thee to turn thy illus- 
trious eyes upon this thy captive knight, whom so mighty an 
encounter awaits. ” This address had, he conceived, animated 
him with so much courage that were all the carriers in the 
world to have assailed him he would not have retreated one 
step. 

The comrades of the wounded, upon discovering the situ- 
ation of their friends, began at a distance to discharge a shower 
of stones upon Don Quixote, who sheltered himself as well as he 
could with his target, without daring to quit the cistern, 
because he would not abandon his armor. The innkeeper 
called aloud to them, begging they would desist, for he had 
already told them he was insane, and that, as a madman, he 
would be acquitted, though he were to kill them all. Don 

[ 18 ] 


THE ADVENTURES OF DON QUIXOTE 

Quixote, in a voice still louder, called them infamous traitors 
and the lord of the castle a cowardly, base-born knight, for 
allowing knights-errant to be treated in that manner; declaring, 
that had he received the order of knighthood he would have 
made him sensible of his perfidy. ‘‘But as for you, ye vile and 
worthless rabble, I utterly despise ye! Advance! Come on; 
molest me as far as ye are able, for quickly shall ye receive the 
reward of your folly and insolence!” This he uttered with 
so much spirit and intrepidity that the assailants were struck 
with terror; which, in addition to the landlord’s persuasions^ 
made them cease their attack. He then permitted the 
wounded to be carried off, and w ith the same gravity and com- 
posure resumed the watch of his armor. 

The host, not relishing these pranks of his guest, determined 
to put an end to them before any further mischief ensued, by 
immediately investing him with the luckless order of chivalry : 
approaching him, therefore, he disclaimed any help on his 
part in the insolent conduct of those low people, who were, he 
observed, well chastised for their presumption. He repeated 
to him that there was no chapel in the castle, nor was it by any 
means necessary for what remained to be done; that the stroke 
of knighting consisted in blows on the neck and shoulders, 
according to the ceremonial of the order, which might be 
effectually performed in the middle of a field; that the duty of 
watching his armor he had now completely fulfilled, for he had 
watched more than four hours, though only two were required. 
All this Don Quixote believed, and said that he was there ready 
to obey him, requesting him, at the same time, to perform the 
deed as soon as possible; because should he be assaulted 

[ 19 ] 


THE ADVENTURES OF DON QUIXOTE 

again when he found himself knighted, he was resolved not to 
leave one person alive in the castle, excepting those whom, 
out of respect to him, and at his particular request, he might 
be induced to spare. The constable^ thus warned and alarmed, 
immediately brought forth a book in which he kept his account 
of the straw and oats he furnished to the carriers, and attended 
by a boy, who carried an end of candle, and the two damsels 
before mentioned, went towards Don Quixote, whom he com- 
manded to kneel down; he then began reading in his manual 
as if it were some devout prayer, in the course of which he 
raised his hand and gave him a good blow on the neck, and 
after that a handsome stroke over the shoulders with his own 
sword, still muttering between his teeth, as if in prayer. This 
being done, he commanded one of the ladies to gird on his 
sword, an office she performed with much alacrity as well as 
discretion, no small portion of which was necessary to avoid 
bursting with laughter at every part of the ceremony; but 
indeed the prowess they had seen displayed by the new knight 
kept their mirth within bounds. At girding on the sword the 
good lady said, “God grant you may be a fortunate knight 
and successful in battle.” Don Quixote inquired her name, 
that he might thenceforward know to whom he was indebted 
for the favor received, as it was his intention to bestow upon 
her some share of the honor he should acquire by the valor of 
his arm. She replied, with much humility, that her name was 
Tolosa, and that she was the daughter of a cobbler at Toledo, 
who lived at the stalls of Sanchobienaya; and that, wherever 
she was, she would serve and honor him as her lord. Don 
Quixote, in reply, requested her, for his sake, to do him the 

[ 20 ] 


THE ADVENTURES OF DON QUIXOTE 


favor henceforth to add to her name the title of don, and call 
herself Donna Tolosa, which she promised to do. The other 
girl now buckled on his spurs, and with her he held nearly the 
same conference as with the lady of the sword. Having 
inquired her name, she told him it was Molinera, and that 
she was daughter to an honest miller of Antiquera; he then 
requested her likewise to assume the don, and style herself 
Donna Molinera, renewing his proffers of service and thanks. 

These never-till-then-seen ceremonies being thus speedily 
performed, Don Quixote was impatient to find himself on horse- 
back, in quest of adventures. He therefore instantly saddled 
Rozinante, mounted him, and embracing his host, made his 
acknowledgments for the favor he had conferred by knighting 
him, in terms so extraordinary that it would be in vain to 
attempt to repeat them. The host, in order to get rid of him 
the sooner, replied with no less flourish, but more brevity; and 
without making any demand for his lodging, wished him a good 
journey. 


[ 21 ] 


CHAPTER IV 


WHAT BEFELL OUR KNIGHT AFTER HE LEFT 
THE INN 

L ight of heart, Don Quixote issued forth from the 
inn about break of day, so satisfied and so pleased 
to see himself knighted that the joy thereof almost 
burst his horse’s girths. But recollecting the advice of his 
host concerning the necessary provisions for his under- 
taking, especially the articles of money and clean shirts, he 
resolved to return home and furnish himself accordingly, and 
also provide himself with a squire, purposing to take into his 
service a certain country fellow of the neighborhood, who was 
poor and had children, yet was very fit for the squirely oflBce 
of chivalry. With this determination he turned Rozinante 
towards his village; and the steed, as if aware of his master’s 
intention, began to put on with so much alacrity that he hardly 
seemed to set his feet to the ground. He had not, however, 
gone far when, on his right hand, from a thicket hard by, he 
fancied he heard feeble cries, as from some person complaining. 
And scarcely had he heard it when he said, ‘‘I thank Heaven 
for the favor it does me by offering me so early an opportunity 
of complying with the duty of my profession, and of reaping 
the fruit of my honorable desires. These are doubtless the 

[ 22 ] 


THE ADVENTURES OF DON QUIXOTE 

cries of some distressed person who stands in need of my pro- 
tection and assistance.” Then turning the reins, he guided 
Rozinante towards the place whence he thought the cries pro- 
ceeded, and he had entered but a few paces into the wood when 
he saw a mare tied to an oak, and a lad to another, naked from 
the waist upwards, about fifteen years of age, who was the 
person that cried out; and not without cause, for a lusty 
country fellow was laying on him very severely with a belt, 
and accompanied every lash with a reprimand and a word of 
advice: “For, ” said he, “ the tongue slow and the eyes quick. ” 
The boy answered, “I will do so no more, dear sir; I will never 
do so again; and I promise for the future to take more care of 
the flock. ” 

Don Quixote, observing what passed, now called out in an 
angry tone, “Discourteous knight, it ill becomes thee to deal 
thus with one who is not able to defend himself. Get upon thy 
horse and take thy lance” (for he had also a lance leaning 
against the oak to which the mare was fastened), “and I will 
make thee sensible of thy dastardly conduct. ” 

The countryman, seeing such a figure coming towards 
him, armed from head to foot, and brandishing his lance at 
his face, gave himself up for a dead man, and therefore humbly 
answered, “Signor cavalier, this lad I am chastising is a servant 
of mine whom I employ to tend a flock of sheep which I 
have hereabouts; but he is so careless that I lose one every 
day; and because I correct him for his negligence or roguery, 
he says I do it out of covetousness, and for an excuse not to 
pay him his wages; but on my conscience, he lies.” 

“Darest thou say so in my presence, vile rustic.?^” said 
[ 23 ] 


THE ADVENTURES OF DON QUIXOTE 


Don Quixote. ‘'By the sun that shines upon us, I have a good 
mind to run thee through with this lance! Pay him immedi- 
ately, without further reply; if not, I will dispatch and anni- 
hilate thee in a moment! Unbind him instantly!” 

The countryman hung down his head, and without reply 
untied his boy. Don Quixote then asked the lad how much his 
master owed him, and he answered, nine months’ wages. 
Don Quixote desired the countryman instantly to disburse 
them unless he meant to pay it with his life. The fellow, in 
a fright, answered that on the word of a dying man, and upon 
the oath he had taken it was not so much; for he must deduct 
the price of three pairs of shoes he had given him on account. 

“All this is very right,” said Don Quixote; “but set the 
shoes against the stripes thou hast given him unjustly, for if 
he tore the leather of thy shoes, thou hast torn his skin; so 
that upon this account he owes thee nothing. ” 

“The mischief is, signor cavalier,” quoth the countryman, 
“ that 1 have no money about me; but let Andres go home with 
me and I will pay him all.” 

“I go home with him!” said the lad, “No, sir; I will do 
no such thing; for when he has me alone he will flay me.” 

“He will not do so,” replied Don Quixote; “to keep him 
in awe, it is suflficient that I lay my commands upon him; and 
on condition he swears to me by the order of knighthood 
which he has received, I shall let him go free, and will be 
bound for the payment.” 

“Good sir, think of what you say,” quoth the boy, “for 
my master is no knight, nor ever received any order of knight- 
hood.” 


[24 1 


THE ADVENTURES OF DON QUIXOTE 


‘‘That is little to the purpose,” answered Don Quixote; 
“there may be knights of his family, more especially as every 
man is the son of his own works.” 

“That’s true,” quoth Andres; “but what works is my 
master the son of, who refuses me the wages of my sweat and 
labor?” “I do not refuse thee, friend Andres,” replied the 
countryman; “have the kindness to go with me, and I swear 
by all the orders of knighthood that are in the world I will 
pay thee all. ” 

“Give him his wages,” said Don Quixote, “and I shall be 
satisfied: and see that thou failest not; or else, by the same 
oath 1 swear to return and chastise thee; nor shalt thou escape 
me, though thou were to conceal thyself closer than a lizard. 
And if thou wouldst be informed who it is thus commands, 
that thou mayst feel the more strictly bound to perform thy 
promise, know that I am the valorous Don Quixote de la 
Mancha, the redresser of wrongs and abuses. So farewell, 
and do not forget what thou hast promised and sworn, on pain 
of the penalty I have pronounced.” So saying, he clapped 
spurs to Rozinante and was soon far off. 

The countryman eagerly followed him with his eyes, and 
when he saw him quite out of the wood he turned to his lad 
Andres and said, “Come hither, child; I wish now to pay what 
I owe thee, as that redresser of wrongs commanded.” 

“So you shall, I swear,” quoth Andres; “and you will do 
well to obey the orders of that honest gentleman who is so 
brave a man and so just a judge that, if you do not pay me, 
he will come back and do what he has threatened.” 

“And I swear so, too,” quoth the countryman: “and to 
[ 25 ] 


THE ADVENTURES OF DON QUIXOTE 


show how much I love thee I am resolved to augment the 
debt, that I may add to the payment. ” Then taking him by 
the arm, he again tied him to the tree, where he gave him so 
many stripes that he left him for dead. 

“Now,” said he, “Master Andres, call upon that redresser 
of wrongs; thou wilt find he will not easily redress this, though 
I believe I have not quite done with thee yet, for I have a 
good mind to flay thee alive, as thou saidst just now.” 

At length, however, he untied him, and gave him leave to 
go in quest of his judge, to execute the threatened sentence. 
Andres went away in dudgeon, swearing he would find out 
the valorous Don Quixote de la Mancha and tell him all that 
had passed, and that he should pay for it sevenfold. Never- 
theless, he departed in tears, leaving his master laughing at 
him. 

Thus did the valorous Don Quixote redress this wrong; and 
elated at so fortunate and glorious a beginning to his knight- 
errantry, he went on towards his village, entirely satisfied with 
himself, and saying with a low voice, “Well mayest thou deem 
thyself happy above all women living on the earth, O Dulcinea 
del Toboso, beauteous above the most beautiful! since it has 
been thy lot to have subject and obedient to thy whole will 
and pleasurQxSQ valiant and renowned a knight as is and ever 
shall be Don Quixote de la Mancha, who, as all the world 
knows, received but yesterday the order of knighthood, and 
today has redressed the greatest injury and grievance that 
injustice could invent and cruelty commit! Today hath he 
wrested the scourge out of the hand of that pitiless enemy, 
by whom a tender stripling was so undeservedly lashed!” 

[ 26 ] 


THE ADVENTURES OF DON QUIXOTE 


He now came to the road, which branched out in four 
different directions; when immediately those cross-ways pre- 
sented themselves to his imagination where knights-errant 
usually stop to consider which of the roads they shall take. 
Here, then, following their example, he paused awhile, and 
after mature consideration, let go the reins, submitting his 
own will to that of his horse, who, following his first motion, 
took the direct road towards his stable. Having proceeded 
about two miles, Don Quixote discovered a company of 
people, who, as it afterwards appeared, were merchants going 
to buy silks. There were six of them in number; they carried 
umbrellas, and were attended by four servants on horseback 
and three muleteers on foot. Scarcely had Don Quixote spied 
them when he imagined it must be some new adventure; and 
to imitate as nearly as possible what he had read in his books, 
as he fancied this to be cut out on purpose for him to achieve, 
with a graceful deportment and intrepid air he settled himself 
firmly in his stirrups, grasped his lance, covered his breast 
with his target, and posting himself in the midst of the high- 
way, awaited the approach of those whom he already judged 
to be knights-errant; and when they were come so near as to 
be seen and heard, he raised his voice, and with an arrogant 
tone cried out: “Let the whole world stand, if the whole 
world does not confess that there is not in the whole world a 
damsel more beautiful than the Empress of La Mancha, the 
peerless Dulcinea del Toboso!” 

The merchants stopped at the sound of these words, and 
also to behold the strange figure of him who pronounced them; 
and both by the one and the other they perceived the mad- 

[ 27 ] 


THE ADVENTURES OF DON QUIXOTE 


ness of the speaker; but they were disposed to stay and see 
what this confession meant which he required; and therefore 
one of them, who was somewhat of a wag, but withal very 
discreet, said to him: 

‘‘Signor cavalier, we do not know who this good lady you 
mention may be: let us but see her, and if she be really so 
beautiful as you intimate, we will, with all our hearts, and 
without any constraint, make the confession you demand of 
us.” 

“Should I show her to you,” replied Don Quixote, “where 
would be the merit of confessing a truth so manifest.^ It is 
essential that, without seeing her, you believe, confess, affirm, 
swear, and maintain it; and if not, I challenge you all to battle, 
proud and monstrous as you are: and whether you come on 
one by one (as the laws of chivalry require), or all together, as 
is the custom and wicked practice of those of your stamp, here 
I wait for you, confiding in the justice of my cause.” 

“Signor cavalier,” replied the merchant, “I beseech your 
worship, in the name of all the princes here present, that we 
may not lay a burden upon our consciences by confessing a 
thing we never saw or heard, and especially being so much to 
the prejudice of the empresses and queens of Alcarria and 
Estremadura, that your worship would be pleased to show us 
some picture of this lady, and therewith we shall rest satisfied 
and safe, and your worship contented and pleased. Nay, I 
verily believe we are so far inclined to your side, that, although 
her picture should represent her squinting with one eye, not- 
withstanding all this, to oblige you, we will say whatever you 
please in her favor.” 


THE ADVENTURES OF DON QUIXOTE 

“Base scoundrels!” answered Don Quixote, burning with 
rage, “she doth not squint, nor is she hunchbacked, but as 
straight as a spindle; but you shall pay for the horrid blas- 
phemy you have uttered against so transcendent a beauty!” 
So saying, with his lance couched he ran at him who had 
spoken with so much fury and rage that, if good fortune had 
not so ordered that Rozinante stumbled and fell in the midst 
of his career, it had gone hard with the rash merchant. Rozi- 
nante fell, and his master lay rolling about the field for some 
time, endeavoring to rise, but in vain, so encumbered was he 
with his lance, target, spurs, and helmet, added to the weight 
of his antiquated armor. And while he was struggling to get 
up he continued calling out, “Ely not, ye dastardly rabble, 
stay, ye race of slaves! for it is through my horse’s fault, and 
not my own, that I lie here extended.” 

A muleteer of the company, not over goodnatured, hear- 
ing the arrogant language of the poor fallen gentleman, could 
not bear it without returning him an answer on his ribs; and 
coming to him, he took the lance, which having broken to 
pieces, he applied one of the splinters with so much agility 
upon Don Quixote, that, in spite of his armor, he was threshed 
like wheat. His masters called out, desiring him to forbear; 
but the lad was provoked, and would not quit the game until 
he had quite spent the remainder of his anger; and, seizing 
the other pieces of the lance, he completely demolished them 
upon the unfortunate knight; who, notwithstanding the tem- 
pest of blows that rained upon him, never shut his mouth, 
incessantly threatening heaven and earth, and those who to 
him appeared to be assassins. At length the fellow was tired, 

[ 29 ] 


THE ADVENTURES OF DON QUIXOTE 


and the merchants departed, sufficiently furnished with 
matter of discourse concerning the poor belabored knight, 
who, when he found himself alone, again endeavored to rise; 
but, if he could not do it when sound and well, how should 
he in so bruised and battered a condition? Yet he was con- 
soled in looking upon this as a misfortune peculiar to knights- 
errant, and imputed the blame to his horse; although to raise 
himself up was impossible, his whole body was so horribly 
bruised. 


[ 30 ] 


CHAPTER V 


HOW OUR KNIGHT RETURNED HOME 

A S soon as he was able to stir, Don Quixote had 
recourse to his usual remedy, which was to recol- 
lect some incident in his books, and his frenzy 
instantly suggested to him that of two knights left wounded on 
the mountain. Now, this seemed to him exactly suited to his 
case; therefore he began to roll himself on the ground, and to 
repeat, in a faint voice, what they aflSrm was said by the 
wounded Knight of the Wood: 

“Where art thou, mistress of my heart, 
Unconscious of thy lover’s smart 
Ah me! thou know’st not my distress, 

Or thou art false and pitiless. ” 

In this manner he went on withl:he romance. Just at that 
instant it soTiappened that a peasant of his own village, a near 
neighbor, who had been carrying a load of wheat to the mill, 
passed by; and, seeing a man lying stretched on the earth, he 
came up, and asked him who he was, and what was the cause 
of his doleful lamentation.^ Don Quixote, returned him no 
answer, but proceeded with the romance, giving an account 
of his misfortune. The peasant was astonished at his extrava- 

[ 31 ] 


THE ADVENTURES OF DON QUIXOTE 


gant discourse; and taking off his vizor, now battered all to 
pieces, he wiped the dust from his face; upon which he recog- 
nized him, and exclaimed, “Ah, Signor Quixana” (for so he 
was called before he had lost his senses, and was transformed 
from a sober gentleman to a knight-errant), “how came your 
worship in this condition?” But still he answered out of his 
romance to whatever question he was asked. 

The good man seeing this, contrived to take oflF the back 
and breast-piece of his armor, to examine if he had any woimd; 
but he saw no blood nor sign of any hurt. He then endeavored 
to raise him from the ground, and with no little trouble placed 
him upon his ass, as being the easier carriage than Rozinante. 
He gathered together all the arms, not excepting the broken 
pieces of lance, and tied them upon Rozinante; then taking 
him by the bridle, and his ass by the halter, he went on towards 
his village, full of concern at the wild language of Don Quixote. 
No less thoughtful was the knight, who was so cruelly beaten 
and bruised that he could scarcely keep himself upon the ass, 
and ever and anon he sent forth groans that seemed to pierce 
the skies, so that the peasant was again forced to inquire what 
ailed him. 

They reached the village about sunset; but the peasant 
waited until the night was a little advanced, that the poor bat- 
tered gentleman might not be seen so poorly mounted. When 
he thought it the proper time, he entered the village, and 
arrived at Don Quixote’s house, which he found all in con- 
fusion. The priest and the barber of the place, who were Don 
Quixote’s particular friends, happened to be there; and the 
housekeeper was saying to them aloud, “What do you think, 

[32] 


THE ADVENTURES OF DON QUIXOTE 


Signor Licentiate Pero Perez” (for that was the priest’s name), 
“of my master’s misfortune? For neither he, nor his horse, 
nor the target, nor the lance, nor the armor have been seen 
these six days past. I am verily persuaded, and it is certainly 
true as I was born to die, that these cursed books of knight- 
errantry, which he is often reading, have turned his brain; and, 
now I think of it, I have often heard him say, talking to him- 
self, that he would turn knight-errant, and go about the world 
in quest of adventures.” 

The niece added, “And you must know. Master Nicholas,” 
(for that was the barber’s name) “that it had often happened 
that my honored imcle has continued poring on these wicked 
books of misadventures two whole days and nights; then, 
throwing the book out of his hand, he would draw his sword 
and strike against the walls; and when he was heartily tired, 
would say he had killed fom giants as tall as so many steeples, 
and that the sweat, which his labor occasioned, was the blood 
of the wounds he had received in the fight; then, after drinking 
off a large pitcher of cold water, he would be as quiet as ever, 
telling us that the water was a most precious liquor, brought 
him by the sage Esquife, a great enchanter, and his friend. 
But I take the blame of all this to myself, for not informing 
you, gentlemen, of my dear uncle’s extravagances, that they 
might have been cured before they had gone so far, by burning 
all those books, which so justly deserve to be committed to 
the flames. ” 

“I say the sapie,” quoth the priest; “and, in faith, 
tomorrow shall not pass without holding a public inquisition 
upon them, and condemning them to the fire, that they may 

[ 33 ] 


THE ADVENTURES OF DON QUIXOTE 

not occasion others to act as I fear my good friend has 
done.” 

All this was overheard by Don Quixote and the peasant; 
and, as it confirmed the latter iu the belief of his neighbor’s 
infirmity, he began to cry aloud, ‘‘Open the doors, gentlemen.” 
Hearing this they all came out; and, immediately recognizing 
their friend, they ran to embrace him, although he had not yet 
alighted from the ass; for, indeed, it was not in his power. 

“Forbear, all of you!” he cried, “for I am sorely wounded, 
through my horse’s fault: carry me to my bed; and, if it be 
possible, send for the sage Urganda, to search and heal my 
wounds. ” 

“Look ye!” said the housekeeper immediately. “Get up 
stairs; for without the help of that same Urganda we shall 
find a way to cure you ourselves. Cursed, say I again, and a 
hundred times cursed, be those books of knight-errantry, that 
have brought your worship to this pass!” They carried him 
directly to his chamber, where, on searching for his wounds, 
they could discover none. He then told them, “he was only 
bruised by a great fall he got with his horse Rozinante, as he 
was fighting with ten of the most prodigious and audacious 
giants on the face of the earth. ” 

“Ho, ho!” says the priest, “what! there are giants too in 
the dance.? I shall set fire to them all before tomorrow night.” 

They asked Don Quixote a thousand questions, to which he 
would return no answer. He only desired that they would give 
him some food, and allow him to sleep, that being what he 
most required. Having done this, the priest inquired particu- 
larly of the countryman in what condition Don Quixote had 

[ 34 ] 


THE ADVENTURES OF DON QUIXOTE 

been found. The countryman gave him an account of the 
whole, with the extravagances he had uttered, both at the 
time of finding him and during their journey home; which 
made the priest impatient to carry into execution what he had 
determined to do the following day; when, for that purpose, 
calling upon his friend Master Nicholas the barber, they pro- 
ceeded together to Don Quixote’s house. 

Long and heavy was the sleep of Don Quixote; meanwhile 
the priest having asked the niece for the key of the chamber 
containing the books, those authors of the mischief, which she 
delivered with a very good will, they entered, attended by the 
housekeeper, and found above a hundred large volumes well 
bound, besides a great number of small size. The priest 
ordered the barber to reach him the books one by one, that 
they might see what they treated of, as they might perhaps 
find some that deserved not to be chastised by fire. 

“No,” said the niece, “there is no reason why any of them 
should be spared, for they have all been mischief-makers: so 
let them all be thrown out of the window into the courtyard, 
and having made a pile of them, set fire to it; or else make a 
bonfire of them in the back yard, where the smoke will offend 
nobody. ” 

The housekeeper said the same, so eagerly did they both 
thirst for the death of those innocents. But the priest would 
not consent to it without first reading the titles at least. 

“Into the yard with them all!” said the priest after he had 
examined a few. 

“Of the same opinion am I,” said the barber. 

“And I too,” added the niece. 

[ 35 ] 


THE ADVENTURES OF DON QUIXOTE 


“Well, then,” said the housekeeper, “away with them all 
into the yard. ” They handed them to her: and, as they were 
numerous, to save herself the trouble of the stairs, she threw 
them all out of the window. 

On a sudden, while they were thus employed, Don Quixote 
began to call aloud, saying, “Here, here, valorous knights! 
Here you must exert the force of your powerful arms, for th6 
courtiers begin to get the advantage in the tournament. ” All 
rushed out at once to the place whence this noisy exclamation 
proceeded. On entering Don Quixote’s chamber, they found 
him already out of bed, and continuing his outcries and 
ravings, with his drawn sword laying furiously about him, 
back-stroke and fore-stroke, and as broad awake as if he had 
never been asleep. They closed in with him, and by main 
force conveyed him again to his bed, where, after he was a 
little composed, he said, turning again to the priest, “ Certainly, 
my lord Archbishop Turpin, it is a great disgrace to us, who 
call ourselves the Twelve Peers, to let the knight-courtiers 
carry off the palm without more opposition, after we the adven- 
turers have gained the prize on the three preceding days.” 

“Say no more, good sir,” said the priest; “it may be 
Heaven’s will to change our fortune, and what is lost today may 
be won tomorrow. Mind your health for the present; for I 
think you must needs be extremely fatigued, if not sorely 
wounded. ” 

“Wounded I am not,” said Don Quixote; “but bruised 
and battered, most certainly; for Don Roldan pounded me 
with the trunk of an oak; and all out of mere envy, because 
he sees 1 am the sole rival of his prowess. But let me never 

[ 36 ] 


THE ADVENTURES OF DON QUIXOTE 


more be called Rinaldo of Montauban, if, as soon as I can rise 
from this bed, he pay not dearly for it, in spite of all his 
enchantments. In the meantime, give me some food, for that 
is what I am now most in need of, and leave to me the care of 
avenging myself. ” They complied with his request, and gave 
him something to eat; and he then fell fast asleep again, 
leaving them in astonishment at his madness. 

The same night the housekeeper set fire to and burned all 
the books that were in the yard and in the house. One of the 
remedies which the priest and the barber prescribed at that 
time for their friend’s malady, was to wall up the chamber 
which had contained his books, hoping that, when the cause 
was removed, the effect might cease; and that they should 
pretend that an enchanter had carried room and all away. 
This was speedily executed; and two days after, when Don 
Quixote left his bed, the first thing that occurred to him was 
to visit his books; and, not finding the room, he went up and 
down looking for it; when, coming to the former situation of 
the door, he felt with his hands, and stared about on all sides 
without speaking a word for some time: at length he asked the 
housekeeper where the chamber was in which he kept his books. 
She, who was already well tutored what to answer, said to him, 
“What room, or what nothing, does your worship look for? 
There is neither room nor books in this house, for the evil one 
himself has carried all away. ” 

“ It was not the evil one, ” said the niece, “but an enchanter, 
who came one night upon a cloud, after the day of your 
departure, and, alighting from a serpent on which he rode, 
entered the room: what he did there I know not; but, after 

[ 37 ] 


THE ADVENTURES OF DON QUIXOTE 


some time, out he came, flying through the roof, and left the 
house full of smoke; and when we went to see what he had been 
doing, we saw neither books nor room; only we very well 
remember, both I and Mistress Housekeeper here, that when 
the wicked old thief went away, he said with a loud voice that, 
from a secret enmity he bore to the owner of those books and 
of the room, he had done a mischief in this house which would 
soon be manifest.” ‘‘He is a sage enchanter,” quoth Don 
Quixote. “A great enemy of mine, and bears me malice, 
because by his skill and learning he knows, that in process of 
time I shall engage in single combat with a knight whom he 
favors, and shall vanquish him, in spite of his protection. On 
this account he endeavors as much as he can to molest me: 
but let him know from me that he cannot withstand or avoid 
what is decreed by Heaven. ” 

“Who doubts of that?” said the niece; “but, dear uncle, 
would it not be better to stay quietly at home, and not ramble 
about the world seeking for better bread than wheaten?” 

“O niece,” answered Don Quixote, “how little dost thou 
know of the matter!” 

Neither of them would make any further reply, for they 
saw his anger began to rise. Fifteen days he remained at home 
very tranquil, discovering no symptoms of an inclination to 
repeat his late frolics, during which time much pleasant con- 
versation passed between him and his two neighbors, the priest 
and the barber: he always affirming that the world stood in 
need of nothing so much as knights-errant and the revival of 
chivalry. The priest sometimes contradicted him, and at 
other times acquiesced; for, had he not been thus cautious. 


THE ADVENTURES OF DON QUIXOTE 

there would have been no means left to bring him to 
reason. 

In the meantime Don Quixote tampered with a laborer, a 
neighbor of his, and ar honest man but shallow-brained: in 
short, he said so much, used so many arguments, and made so 
many promises, that the poor fellow resolved to sally out with 
him and serve him in the capacity of a squire. Among other 
things, Don Quixote told him that he ought to be very glad to 
accompany him, for such an adventure might some time or the 
other occur, that by one stroke an island might be won, where 
he might leave him governor. With this and other promises 
Sancho Panza (for that was the laborer’s name) left his wife 
and children, and engaged himself as squire to his neighbor. 
Don Quixote now set about raising money ; and, by selling one 
thing, pawning another, and losing by all, he collected a toler- 
able sum. He fitted himself likewise with a buckler, which he 
borrowed of a friend, and, patching up his broken helmet in 
the best manner he could, he acquainted his squire Sancho of 
the day and hour he intended to set out, that he might provide 
himself with what he thought would be most needful. Above 
all, he charged him not to forget a wallet, which Sancho assured 
him he would not neglect; he said also that he thought of tak- 
ing an ass with him, as he had a very good one, and he was 
not used to travel much on foot. With regard to the ass, Don 
Quixote paused a little, endeavoring to recollect whether any 
knight-errant had ever carried a squire mounted on ass-back, 
but no instance of the kind occurred to his memory. However 
he consented that he should take his ass, resolving to accom- 
modate him more honorably at the earliest opportunity, by 

[ 39 ] 


THE ADVENTURES OF DON QUIXOTE 


dismoumting the first discourteous knight he should meet. He 
provided himself also with shirts, and other things, conform- 
ably to the advice given him by the innkeeper. 

All this being accomplished, Don Quixote and Sancho 
Panza, without taking leave, the one of his wife and children, 
or the other of his housekeeper and niece, one night sallied 
out of the village unperceived; and they travelled so hard that 
by break of day they believed themselves secure, even if search 
were made after them. Sancho Panza proceeded upon his ass 
like a patriarch, with his wallet and leathern bottle, and with a 
vehement desire to find himself governor of the island which 
his master had promised him. Don Quixote happened to take 
the same route as on his first expedition, over the plain of 
Montiel, which he passed with less inconvenience than before; 
for it was early in the morning, and the rays of the sun, dart- 
ing on them horizontally, did not annoy them. 

Sancho Panza now said to his master, “I beseech your 
worship, good Sir Knight-errant, not to forget your promise 
concerning that same island; for I shall know how to govern 
it, be it ever so large.” 

To which Don Quixote answered: “Thou must know, 
friend Sancho Panza, that it was a custom much in use among 
the knights^errant of old to make their squires governors of 
the islands or kingdoms they conquered; and I am determined 
that so laudable a custom shall not be lost through my neglect; 
on the contrary, I resolve to outdo them in it: for they, some- 
times, and perhaps most times, waited till their squires were 
grown old; and when they were worn out in their service, and 
had endured many bad days and worse nights, they conferred 


THE ADVENTURES OF DON QUIXOTE 


on them some title, such as count, or at least marquis, of 
some valley or province of more or less account: but if you live 
and I live, before six days have passed I may probably win 
such a kingdom as may have others depending on it, just fit 
for thee to be crowned king of one of them. And do not think 
this any extraordinary matter; for things fall out to knights 
by such unforeseen and unexpected ways, that I may easily 
give thee more than I promise.” ‘‘So, then,” answered 
Sancho Panza, “if I were a king, by some of those miracles 
your worship mentions, my wife would come to be a queen!” 

“Who doubts it?” answered Don Quixote. 

“I doubt it,” replied Sancho Panza; “for you must know, 
sir, she is not worth two farthings for a queen.” 


[ 41 ] 


CHAPTER VI 


DON QUIXOTE’S SUCCESS IN THE DREADFUL AND 
NEVER-BEFORE-IMAGINED ADVENTURE 
OF THE WINDMILLS 

E ngaged in this discourse, they came in sight of 
thirty or forty windmills, which are in that plain; 
and as soon as Don Quixote espied them, he 
said to his squire, “Fortune disposes our affairs better than 
we ourselves could have desired: look yonder, friend Sancho 
Panza, where thou mayest discover somewhat more than thirty 
monstrous giants, whom I intend to encounter and slay, and 
with their spoils we will begin to enrich ourselves; for it is 
lawful war to remove so wicked a generation from the face 
of the earth. ” 

“What giants?” said Sancho Panza. 

“Those thou seest yonder,” answered his master, “with 
their long arms; for some are wont to have them almost of 
the length of two leagues. ” 

“Look, sir,” answered Sancho, “those which appear 
yonder are not giants, but windmills, and what seems to be 
arms are the sails, which, whirled about by the wind, make the 
mill-stone go. ” 

“It is very evident,” answered Don Quixote, “that thou 
art not versed in the business of adventures. They are giants- 

[ 42 ] 



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THE ADVENTURES OF DON QUIXOTE 


and if thou art afraid, get thee aside, and pray whilst I 
engage with them in fierce and unequal combat. ” 

So saying, he clapped spurs to his steed, notwithstanding 
the cries his squire sent after him, assuring him that they were 
certainly windmills, and not giants. But he was so fully 
possessed that they were giants, that he neither heard the 
outcries of his squire Sancho, nor yet discerned what they 
were, though he was very near them, but went on crying out 
aloud, “Fly not, ye cowards and vile caitiffs! for it is a single 
knight who assaults you.” The wind now rising a little, the 
great sails began to move; upon which Don Quixote called 
out, “Although ye should have more arms than the giant 
Briareus, ye shall pay for it. ” 

Then recommending himself devoutly to his lady Dulcinea, 
beseeching her to succor him in the present danger, being 
well covered with his buckler and setting his lance in the rest, 
he rushed on as fast as Rozinante could gallop, and attacked 
the first mill before him; when, running his lance into the sail, 
the wind whirled it about with so much violence that it broke 
the lance to shivers, dragging horse and rider after it, and 
tumbling them over and over on the plain in very evil plight. 
Sancho Panza hastened to his assistance as fast as the ass 
could carry him; and when he came up to his master he found 
him unable to stir, so violent was the blow which he and 
Rozinante had received in their fall. 

“God save me!” quoth Sancho, “did not I warn you to 
have a care of what you did, for that they were nothing but 
windmills.^ And nobody could mistake them but one that 
had the like in his head. ” 


[ 43 ] 


THE ADVENTURES OF DON QUIXOTE 


‘‘Peace, friend Sancho,” answered Don Quixote; “for 
matters of war are, of all others, most subject to continual 
change. Now I verily believe, and it is most certainly the fact, 
that the enchanter who stole away my chamber and books, 
has returned these giants into windmills, on purpose to deprive 
me of the glory of vanquishing them, so great is the enmity 
he bears me! But his wicked arts will finally avail but little 
against the goodness of my sword. ” 

“God grant it!’’ answered Sancho Panza; then helping 
him to rise, he mounted him again upon his steed, which was 
almost disjointed. 

Conversing upon the late adventure, they followed the road 
that led to the Pass of Lapice; because there, Don Quixote 
said, they could not fail to meet with many and various 
adventures, as it was much freqniented. He was, however, 
concerned at the loss of his lance; and, speaking of it to his 
squire, he said, “I remember to have read that a certain 
Spanish knight, having broken his sword in fight, tore off a 
huge branch or limb from an oak. I now speak of this 
because from the first oak we meet I mean to tear a limb, with 
which I purpose and resolve to perform such feats that thou 
shalt deem thyself most fortunate in having been thought 
worthy to behold them, and to be an eye-witness of things 
which will scarcely be credited. ” 

“Heaven’s will be done!” quoth Sancho; “I believe all 
just as you say, sir. But pray set yourself more upright in 
your saddle, for you seem to me to ride sidelong, owing 
perhaps, to the bruises received by your fall. ” 

“It is certainly so,” said Don Quixote; “and if I do not 

[ 44 1 


THE ADVENTURES OF DON QUIXOTE 


complain of pain, it is because knights-errant are not allowed 
to complain of any wound whatever. ” 

They passed that night under the shelter of some trees; 
and from one of them the knight tore a withered branch, to 
serve him in some sort as a lance, after fixing upon it the iron 
head of the one that had been broken. All that night Don 
Quixote slept not, but ruminated on his lady Dulcinea, con- 
formably to the practice of knights-errant, who, as their 
histories told him, were wont to pass many successive nights 
in woods and deserts, without closing their eyes, indulging the 
sweet remembrance of their ladies. 

They discovered the Pass of Lapice about three in the 
afternoon. “Here, friend Sancho,” said Don Quixote, upon 
seeing it, “we may plunge our arms up to the elbows in what 
are termed adventures. But attend to this caution, that, even 
shouldst thou see me in the greatest peril in the world, thou 
must not lay hand to thy sword to defend me, unless thou 
perceivest that my assailants are vulgar and low people: in 
that case thou mayest assist me; but should they be knights, 
it is in nowise agreeable to the laws of chivalry that thou 
shouldst interfere, until thou art thyself dubbed a knight. ” 
“Your worship,” answered Sancho, “shall be obeyed most 
punctually therein, and the rather as I am naturally very 
peaceable, and an enemy to thrusting myself into brawls and 
squabbles; but for all that, as to what regards the defence of 
my own person, I shall make no great account of those same 
laws, since both divine and human laws allow every man to 
defend himself against whoever would wrong him. ” 

“That I grant,” answered Don Quixote; “but with 
[ 45 ] 


THE ADVENTURES OF DON QUIXOTE 

respect to giving me aid against knights, thou must refrain, 
and keep within bounds thy natural impetuosity. ” 

“ I say, I will do so, ” answered Sancho; and I will observe 
this precept.” 

As they were thus discoursing, there appeared on the road 
two monks of the order of St. Benedict, apparently mounted 
upon dromedaries; for the mules whereon they rode were not 
much less. They wore travelling masks, and carried umbrellas. 
Behind them came a coach, accompanied by four or five men 
on horseback and two muleteers on foot. Within the coach, 
was a Biscayan lady on her way to join her husband at Seville. 
The monks were not in her company, but were only travelling 
the same road. 

Scarcely had Don Quixote espied them, when he said to 
his squire, “Either I am deceived, or this will prove the most 
famous adventure that ever happened; for those black figures 
that appear yonder must undoubtedly be enchanters, who are 
carrying off in that coach some princess whom they have 
stolen, which wrong I am bound to use my utmost endeavors 
to redress.” 

“This may prove a worse business than the windmills,” 
said Sancho; “pray, sir, take notice that those are monks, and 
the coach must belong to some travellers. Hearken to my 
advice, sir; have a care what you do. ” 

“ I have already told thee, Sancho, ” answered Don Quixote, 
“that thou knowest little concerning adventures: what I say 
is true, as thou wilt presently see.” 

So saying, he advanced forward, and planted himself in 
the midst of the highway by which the monks were to pass; 

[ 46 ] 


THE ADVENTURES OF DON QUIXOTE 

and when they were so near that he supposed they could hear 
what he said, he cried out with a loud voice, ‘‘Monstrous race! 
either instantly release the highborn princesses whom ye are 
carrying away perforce in that coach, or prepare for instant 
death, as the just chastisement of your wicked deeds.” 

The monks stopped their mules, and stood amazed, as 
much at the figure of Don Quixote as at his expressions: to 
which they answered, “ Signor cavalier, we are not monstrous, 
but monks travelling on our own business, and entirely igno- 
rant whether any princesses are carried away in that coach by 
force or not. ” 

“No fair speeches to me, for I know ye, treacherous scoun- 
drels!” and without waiting for a reply, he clapped spurs to 
Rozinante, and, with his lance couched, ran at the foremost 
monk with such fury and resolution that, if he had not slid 
down from his mule, he would certainly have been thrown to 
the ground, and wounded too, if not killed outright. The 
second monk, on observing how his comrade was treated, 
clapped spurs to the sides of his good mule, and began to scour 
along the plain lighter than the wind itself. 

Sancho Panza, seeing the monk on the ground, leaped 
nimbly from his ass, and, running up to him, began to disrobe 
him. While he was thus employed, the two lackeys came up, 
and asked him why he was stripping their master. Sancho 
told them that they were his lawful perquisites, being the spoils 
of the battle which his lord Don Quixote had just won. The 
lackeys, who did not understand the jest, nor what was meant 
by spoils or battles, seeing that Don Quixote was at a distance 
speaking with those in the coach, fell upon Sancho, threw him 

[ 47 ] 


THE ADVENTURES OF DON QUIXOTE 


down, and, besides leaving him not a hair in his beard, gave 
him a hearty kicking, and left him stretched on the ground 
deprived of sense and motion. Without losing a moment, the 
monk now got upon his mule again, trembling, terrified, and as 
pale as death, and was no sooner mounted than he spurred 
after his companion, who stood at some distance to observe the 
issue of this strange encounter. In the meantime Don 
Quixote addressing the lady in the coach, “Your beauteous 
ladyship may now,” said he, “dispose of your person as 
pleaseth you best, for the pride of your robbers lies humbled 
in the dust, overthrown by my invincible arm: and that you 
may be at no trouble to learn the name of your deliverer, know 
that I am called Don Quixote de la Mancha, knight-errant and 
adventurer, and captive to the peerless and beauteous Dulcinea 
del Toboso; and in requital of the benefit you have received 
at my hands, all I desire is, that you would return to Toboso, 
and in my name present yourselves before that lady, and tell 
her what I have done to obtain your liberty. ” 

All that Don Quixote said was overheard by a certain 
squire who accompanied the coach, a Biscayan, who, finding 
he would not let it proceed, but talked of their immediately 
returning to Toboso, flew at Don Quixote, and, taking hold 
of his lance, addressed him, after this manner: “Cavalier, 
begone! If thou dost not quit the coach, thou forfeitest thy 
life, as I am a Biscayan. ” 

Don Quixote understood him very well, and with great 
calmness answered, “If thou wert a gentleman, as thou art 
not, I would before now have chastised thy folly and pre- 
sumption, thou pitiful slave. ” 

[ 48 ] 


THE ADVENTURES OF DON QUIXOTE 


“I am no gentleman!” said the Biscayan. ‘If thou wilt 
throw away thy lance, and draw thy sword, thou shalt see 
how thou liest. Now what hast thou to say.^^” 

“Thou shalt see that presently,” answered Don Quixote; 
then, throwing down his lance, he drew his sword, grasped his 
buckler, and set upon the Biscayan with a resolution to take 
his life. The Biscayan, seeing him come on in that manner, 
would fain have alighted, knowing that his mule, a wretched 
hack, was not to be trusted; but he had only time to draw his 
sword. Fortunately for him, he was so near the coach as to be 
able to snatch from it a cushion, that served him for a shield; 
whereupon they immediately fell to as if they had been mortal 
enemies. The rest of the company would have made peace 
between them, but it was impossible. The lady of the coach, 
amazed and affrighted at what she saw, ordered the coachman 
to remove a little out of the way, and sat at a distance behold- 
ing the fierce confiict; in the progress of which the Biscayan 
gave Don Quixote so mighty a stroke on one of his shoulders, 
and above his buckler, that, had it not been for his armor, he 
had cleft him down to the girdle. 

Don Quixote, feeling the weight of that unmeasurable 
blow, cried out aloud, saying, “O lady of my soul! Dulcirifa, 
fiower of all beauty! succor this thy knight, who, to satisfy 
thy great goodness, exposes himself to this perilous extremity ! ” 
This invocation, the drawing his sword, the covering himself 
well with his buckler, and rushing with fury on the Biscayan^ 
was the work of an instant — resolving to venture all on the 
fortune of a single blow. The Biscayan perceiving his inten- 
tion, resolved to do the same, and therefore waited for him, 

[ 49 ] 


THE ADVENTURES OF DON QUIXOTE 


covering himself well with his cushion; but he was unable to 
turn his mule either to the right or left, for, being already 
jaded, and unaccustomed to such sport, the creature would 
not move a step. 

Don Quixote, as we before said, now advanced towards the 
wary Biscayan, with his uplifted sword, fully determined to 
cleave him asunder; and the Biscayan awaited him with his 
sword also raised; and guarded by his cushion. All the 
bystanders were in fearful suspense as to the event of those 
prodigious blows with which they threatened each other. 

Don Quixote, raising himself afresh in his stirrups, and 
grasping his sword faster in both hands, he discharged it with 
such fury upon the Biscayan, directly over the cushion and 
upon his head, which was unprotected, that, as if a mountain 
had fallen upon him, the blood began to gush out of his nos- 
trils, his mouth and his ears; and he seemed as if he was just 
falling from his mule, which doubtless he must have done, 
had not he laid fast hold of his neck; but, notwithstanding 
that, he lost his stirrups and then let go his hold; while the 
mule, frightened at the terrible stroke, began to run about 
the field, and at two or three plunges laid her master flat on 
the ground. Don Quixote stood looking on with great calm- 
ness; and, seeing him fall, he leaped from his horse with much 
agility, ran up to him, and clapping the point of his sword to 
his eyes, bade him yield, or he would cut off his head. The 
Biscayan was so stunned that he could not answer a word; 
and it would have gone hard with him (so blinded with rage 
was Don Quixote) had not the ladies of the coach, who till 
now had been witnessing the combat in great dismay, 
[ 50 ] 


THE ADVENTURES OF DON QUIXOTE 


approached him, and earnestly entreated that he would do 
them the great kindness and favor to spare the life of their 
squire. 

Don Quixote answered, with much solemnity and gravity, 
‘‘Assuredly, fair ladies, I am most willing to grant you your 
request, but it must be upon a certain condition and com- 
pact, which is, that this knight shall promise to repair to the 
town of Toboso, and present himself from me before the peer- 
less Donna Dulcinea, that she may dispose of him according 
to her pleasure. ” 

The terrified and disconsolate lady, without considering 
what Don Quixote required or inquiring who Dulcinea was, 
promised him that her squire should perform whatever he 
commanded. 

“Then, on the faith of this promise,” said Don Quixote, 
“I will do him no further hurt, though he well deserves it at 
my hands.” 

Before this time Sancho Panza had got upon his legs, 
somewhat roughly handled by the servants of the monks, 
and stood an attentive spectator during the combat of his 
master, Don Quixote, hoping he would win the victory, and 
that he, Sancho, might hereby win some island of which he 
might make him governor, according to his promise. Now, 
seeing the conflict at an end, and that his master was ready 
to mount again upon Rozinante, he came up to hold his stir- 
rup; but before he had mounted, fell upon his knees before 
him, then taking hold of his hand and kissing it, said to him, 
“Be pleased, my lord Don Quixote, to bestow upon me the 
government of that island which you have won in this dread- 

[ 51 ] 


THE ADVENTURES OF DON QUIXOTE 


ful battle; for, be it ever so big, I feel in myself ability sufficient 
to govern it as well as the best that ever governed island in 
the world. ” 

To which Don Quixote answered, ‘‘Consider, brother 
Sancho, that this adventure, and others of this nature, are 
not adventures of islands, but of cross-ways, in which nothing 
is to be gained but a broken head or the loss of an ear. Have 
patience; for adventures will ojffer whereby I may not only 
make thee a governor, but something yet greater.” Sancho 
returned him abundance of thanks; and, kissing his hand 
again and the skirt of his armor, he helped him to get upon 
Rozinante; then mounting his ass, he followed his master, 
who, going off at a round pace, without taking his leave or 
speaking to those in the coach, immediately entered into an 
adjoining wood. 


[ 52 ] 


CHAPTER VII 


OF WHAT BEFELL DON QUIXOTE 
WITH THE GOATHERDS 

B eing desirous to seek out some place wherein 
to rest that night, they made what haste they 
could to reach some village, but both the sun and 
their hopes failed them near the huts of some goatherds. 
They determined, therefore, to take up their lodging with 
them: but if Sancho was grieved that they could not reach a 
village, his master was as much rejoiced to lie in the open air, 
conceiving that, every time this befell him, he was performing 
an act which confirmed his title to chivalry. 

No one could be more kindly received than was Don 
Quixote by the goatherds; and Sancho, having accommodated 
Rozinante and his ass in the best manner he was able, pursued 
the odor emitted by certain pieces of goat’s flesh that were 
boiling in a kettle on the fire; and though he would willingly, 
at that instant, have tried whether they were ready to be 
transferred from the kettle to the stomach, he forbore doing 
so, as the goatherds themselves took them off the fire, and, 
spreading some sheepskins on the ground, very speedily 
served up their rural mess, and with much cordiality invited 
them both to partake of it. 

[ 53 ] 


THE ADVENTURES OF DON QUIXOTE 


Six of them that belonged to the fold seated themselves 
round the skins, having first, with rustic compliments, 
requested Don Quixote to seat himself upon a trough with the 
bottom upwards placed on purpose for him. Don Quixote 
sat down, and Sancho remained standing to serve the cup, 
which was made of horn. His master, seeing him standing, 
said to him, ‘‘That thou mayest see the intrinsic worth of 
knight-errantry, and how speedily those who exercise any 
ministry whatsoever belonging to it may attain honor and 
estimation in the world, it is my will that thou be seated here 
by my side, in company with these good people, and become 
one and the same thing with me, who am thy master and 
natural lord; that thou eat from off my plate, and drink of 
the same cup from which I drank; for the same may be said 
of knight-errantry which is said of love, that it makes all 
things equal.” 

“I give you a great many thanks, sir,” said Sancho; “but 
let me tell your worship that, provided I have victuals enough, 
I can eat as well, or better, standing and alone, than if I were 
seated close by an emperor, and further, to tell you the truth, 
what I eat in a corner, without compliments and ceremonies, 
though it were nothing but bread and an onion, relishes better 
than turkeys at other men’s tables, where I am forced to chew 
leisurely, drink little, wipe my mouth often, nor do other 
things which may be done when alone and at liberty. ” 

“Notwithstanding this,” said Don Quixote, “thou shalt 
sit dow^; for whosoever humbleth himself is exalted;” and, 
pulling him by the arm, he forced him to sit down next him. 

The goatherds did not understand this jargon of squires 
[ 54 ] 


THE ADVENTURES OF DON QUIXOTE 


and knights-errant, and therefore only ate, held their peace, 
and stared at their guests, who, with much satisfaction and 
appetite, swallowed down pieces as large as their fists. The 
service of flesh being finished, they spread upon the skins a 
great quantity of acorns, together with half a cheese, harder 
than if it had been made of mortar. The horn in the meantime 
stood not idle; for it went round so often, now full, now empty, 
like the bucket of a well, that they presently emptied one of 
the two wine-bags that hung in view. After Don Quixote had 
satisfied his hunger, he took up a handful of acorns, and, look- 
ing on them attentively, gave utterance to expressions like 
these: 

“Happy times, and happy ages, were those which the 
ancients termed the Golden Age! not because gold, so prized 
in this our iron age, was to be obtained in that fortunate 
period without toil; but because they who then lived were 
ignorant of those two words, mine and thine. In that blessed 
age all things were in common; to provide their ordinary sus- 
tenance, no other labor was necessary than to raise their hands 
and take it from the sturdy oaks, which stood liberally invit- 
ing them to taste their sweet and relishing fruit. The limpid 
fountains and running streams offered them, in magnificent 
abundance, their delicious and transparent waters. In the 
clefts of rocks, and in hollow trees, the industrious and prov- 
ident bees formed their commonwealths, offering to every 
hand, without interest, the fertile produce of their most 
delicious toil. All then was peace, all amity, all concord. ” 

Our knight made this harangue because the acorns they 
had put before him reminded him of the Golden Age, and led 

[ 55 ] 


THE ADVENTURES OF DON QUIXOTE 


him to make that unprofitable discourse to the goatherds; 
who, in astonishment, listened to him without saying a word. 
Sancho also was silent, devouring the acorns, and making 
frequent visits to the second wine-bag. 

The goatherd sang in an agreeable manner and Don 
Quixote requested other ballads, but Sancho Panza was of 
another mind, being more disposed to sleep than to hear song; 
he therefore said to his master, “Sir, you had better consider 
where you are to rest tonight; for the labor which these honest 
men undergo all day will not suffer them to pass the night in 
singing. ” 

“Lay thyself down where thou wilt,” said Don Quixote, 
“but it is more becoming those of my profession to watch 
than to sleep. However, it would not be amiss, Sancho, if thou 
wouldst dress this ear again, for it pains me more than it ought. ” 

Sancho did as he was desired; and one of the goatherds, 
seeing the wound, bade him not to be concerned about it, for 
he would apply such a remedy as should quickly heal it; then 
taking some rosemary leaves he chewed them, and mixed with 
them a little salt, and, laying them to the ear, bound them on 
very fast, assuring him that no other salve would be neces- 
sary, which indeed proved to be true. 

After several days, leave having been taken, as the sage 
Cid Hamet Benengeli relates, by Don Quixote, of the goatherds, 
he and his squire entered the wood, and having ranged 
through it for above two hours they stopped in a meadow full 
of fresh grass, near which ran a pleasant and refreshing brook; 
in so much that it invited and compelled them to pass there 
the sultry hours of mid-day, which now became very oppres- 
[ 56 ] 


THE ADVENTURES OF DON QUIXOTE 


sive. Don Quixote and Sancho alighted, and, leaving the ass 
and Rozinante at large to feed upon the abundant grass, they 
ransacked the wallet; and, without any ceremony, in friendly 
and social wise, master and man shared what it contained. 
Sancho had taken no care to fetter Rozinante, being well 
assured of his disposition, but fortune so ordered it that there 
w^re grazing in the same valley a number of Galician ponies 
belonging to certain Yanguesian carriers, whose custom it is 
to pass the noon, with their drove, in places where there is 
grass and water; and that where Don Quixote then reposed 
suited their purpose. 

Now it so happened that Rozinante conceived a wish to 
pay his respects to his neighbors, and, changing his natural 
and sober pace to a brisk trot, and without asking his master’s 
leave, departed to indulge in his inclination. But they being, 
as it seemed, more disposed to feed than anything else, 
received him with their heels and their teeth, in such a manner 
that in a little time his girths broke and he lost his saddle- 
But what must have affected him more sensibly was, that the 
carriers, having witnessed his intrusion, set upon him with 
their pack-staves, and so belabored him that they laid him 
along on the ground in wretched plight. 

By this time the knight and squire, having seen the drub- 
bing of Rozinante, came up in great haste; and Don Quixote 
said, ‘‘By what I see, friend Sancho, these are no knights, but 
low people of a scoundrel race. I tell thee this because thou 
art on that account justified in assisting me to take ample 
revenge for the outrage they have done to Rozinante before 
our eyes/’ 


[ 57 ] 


THE ADVENTURES OF DON QUIXOTE 

“What revenge can we take/’ answered Sancho, “since 
they are about twenty, and we no more than two, and per- 
haps but one and a half?” 

“I am equal to a hundred!” replied Don Quixote; and, 
without saying more, he laid his hands on his sword, and flew 
at the Yanguesians; and Sancho did the same, incited by the 
example of his master. At the first blow, Don Quixote 
gave one of them a terrible wound on the shoulder, through 
a leathern doublet. The Yanguesians, seeing themselves 
assaulted in this manner by two men only, seized their staves, 
and, surrounding them, began to dispense their blows with 
great vehemence and animosity; and true it is that at the 
second blow they brought Sancho to the ground. The same 
fate befell Don Quixote, his courage and dexterity availing 
him nothing; and, as fate would have it, he fell just at Rozi- 
nante’s feet, who had not yet been able to rise. The Yan- 
guesians, perceiving the mischief they had done, loaded their 
beasts with all speed, and pursued their journey, leaving the 
two adventurers in evil plight. 

The first who came to his senses was Sancho Panza, who, 
finding himself close to his master, with feeble and plaintive 
voice cried, “Signor Don Quixote! ah. Signor Don Quixote!” 

“WTiat wouldst thou, brother Sancho?” answered the 
knight, in the same feeble and lamentable tone. 

“In how many days,” said the squire, “does your worship 
think we shall recover the use of our feet?” 

“For my part,” answered the battered knight, Don 
Quixote, “I cannot ascertain the precise term; but I alone 
am to blame, for having laid hand on my sword against men 

[ 58 ] 


THE ADVENTURES OF DON QUIXOTE 


who are not knights like myself. On this account, brother 
Sancho, it is requisite thou shouldst be forewarned of what I 
shall now tell thee, for it highly concerns the welfare of us 
both; and it is this: that when we are insulted by low people 
of this kind, do not stay still till I take up my sword against 
them, for I will by no means do it; but do thou draw thy sword 
and chastise them to thy satisfaction. If any knights shall 
come up to their assistance, I shall then know how to defend 
thee and offend them with all my might; for thou hast already 
had a thousand proofs how far the valor of this strong arm 
of mine extends;” — so arrogant was the poor gentleman 
become by his victory over the valiant Biscayan! 

But Sancho Panza did not so entirely approve his master’s 
instructions as to forbear saying, in reply, “Sir, I am a peace- 
able, tame, and quiet man, and can forgive any injury whatso- 
ever; for I have a wife and children to maintain and bring up; 
so that, give me leave to tell your worship by way of hint,, 
since it is not for me to command, that I will upon no account 
draw my sword, either against peasant or against knight; and 
that, from this time forward, I forgive all injuries any one has 
done or shall do me, or that any person is now doing or may 
hereafter do me, whether he be high or low, rich or poor, gentle 
or simple, without excepting any state or condition whatever. ” 

Upon which his master said, “I wish I had breath to talk a 
little at my ease, and that the pain I feel in this rib would 
cease long enough for me to convince thee, Panza, of thy error. 
Hark ye, sinner: should the gale of fortune, now so adverse, 
change in our favor, filling the sails of our desires, so that we 
may securely and without opposition make the port of some 

[ 59 ] 


THE ADVENTURES OF DON QUIXOTE 


one of those islands which I have promised thee, what would 
become of thee, if, when I had gained it and made thee lord 
thereof, thou shouldst render all ineffectual by not being a 
knight, nor desiring to be one, and by having neither valor nor 
resolution to revenge the injuries done thee, or to defend thy 
dominions?” ‘‘In this that hath now befallen us,” answered 
Sancho, “ I wish I had been furnished with that understanding 
and valor your lordship speaks of ; but I swear, on the faith of 
a poor man, I am at this time more fit for plasters than dis- 
courses. Try, sir, whether you are able to rise, and we will 
help up Rozinante, though he does not deserve it, for he was 
the principal cause of all this mauling. I never believed the 
like of Rozinante, whom I took to be as peaceable as myself. 
But it is a true saying that ‘much time is necessary to know 
people thoroughly;’ and that ‘we are sure of nothing in this 
life.’ Who could have thought that, after such swinging 
lashes as you gave that luckless adventurer, there should come 
post, as it were, in pursuit of you, this vast tempest of cudgel- 
strokes, which has dii^harged itself upon our shoulders?” 

“Thine, Sancho,” replied Don Quixote, “should, one 
would think, be used to such storms; but mine, that were 
brought up between muslins and cambrics, must, of course, 
be more sensible to the pain of this unfortunate encounter. 
And were it not that I imagine — why do I say imagine? — 
did I not know for certain that all these inconveniences are 
inseparably annexed to the profession of arms, I would suffer 
myself to die here out of pure vexation- ” 

“Since these mishaps,” said the squire, “are the natural 
fruits and harvest of chivalry, pray tell me, whether they 

[ 60 ] 


THE ADVENTURES OF DON QUIXOTE 


come often, or whether they have their set times in which they 
happen; for, to my thinking, two such harvests would disable 
us from ever reaping a third. ’’ 

“Learn, friend Sancho,” answered Don Quixote, “that the 
lives of knights-errant are subject to a thousand perils and dis- 
asters, but at the same time they are no less near becoming 
kings and emperors; as experience hath shown us in many and 
divers knights, with whose histories I am perfectly acquainted. 
I could tell thee now, if this pain would allow me, of some who, 
by the strength of their arm alone, have mounted to the 
exalted ranks I have mentioned; yet these very men were, before 
and after, involved in sundry calamities and misfortunes. 

“ Have done with this, and gather strength out of weakness, 
Sancho,” said Don Quixote, “for so I purpose to do; and let 
us see how Rozinante does, for it seems to me that not the 
least part of our misfortune has fallen to the share of this poor 
animal.” 

“That is not at all strange,” answered Sancho, “since he 
also belongs to a knight-errant; but what I wonder at is that 
my ass should come off scot-free where we have paid so dear. ” 
“Fortune always leaves some door open in misfortune to 
admit a remedy,” said Don Quixote: “this I say because thy 
beast may now supply the want of Rozinante, by carrying me 
hence to some castle, where I may be cured of my wounds. 
Nor do I account it dishonorable to be so mounted; for I 
remember to have read that the good old Silenus, governor 
and tutor of the merry god of laughter, when he made his entry 
into the city of the hundred gates, was mounted much to his 
satisfaction, on a most beautiful ass. ” 

[ 61 ] 


THE ADVENTURES OF DON QUIXOTE 

‘Tt is likely he rode as your worship says,” answered 
Sancho; ‘'but there is a main difference between riding and 
lying athwart like a sack of rubbish. ” 

“The wounds received in battle,” said Don Quixote, 
“rather give honor than take it away; therefore, friend Panza, 
answer me no more, but as I said before, raise me up as well as 
thou canst, and place me as it may best please thee upon thy 
ass, that we may get hence before night overtakes us in this 
uninhabited place.” Then Sancho with thirty “alases,” 
and sixty sighs, and a hundred and twenty curses on those 
who had brought him into that situation, endeavored to 
raise himself, but stopped half-way, bent like a Turkish bow, 
being wholly unable to stand upright: notwithstanding this, 
he managed to saddle his ass, who had also taken advantage 
of that day’s excessive liberty to go a little astray. He then 
heaved up Rozinante, who, had he had a tongue wherewithal 
to complain, most certainly would not have been outdone 
either by Sancho or his master. Sancho at length settled Don 
Quixote upon the ass, to whose tail he then tied Rozinante, 
and, taking hold of the halter of Dapple,'^ he led them, now 
faster, now slower, towards the place where he thought the 
high-road might lie; and had scarcely gone a short league when 
fortune, that was conducting his affairs from good to better, 
discovered to him the road, where he also espied an inn; which, 
much to his sorrow and Don Quixote’s joy,' must needs be a 
castle. Sancho positiveljj^ maintained it was an inn, and his 
master that it was a castle, and the dispute lasted so long that 
they arrived there before it was determined: and Sancho, with- 
out further expostulation, entered it with his string of cattle. 

[ 62 ] 


THE ADVENTURES OF DON QUIXOTE 


Looking at Don Quixote laid across the ass, the innlceeper 
inquired of Sancho what ailed him. Sancho answered him 
that it was nothing but a fall from a rock, by which his ribs 
were somewhat bruised. The innkeeper had a wife of a dis- 
position uncommon among those of the like occupation, for 
she was naturally charitable, and felt for the misfortunes of her 
neighbors; so that she immediately prepared to relieve Don 
Quixote, and made her daughter, a very comely young maiden, 
assist in the cure of her guest. There was also a servant at 
the inn, an Austrian girl, broad-faced, flat headed, with a little 
nose, one eye squinting, and the other not much better. This 
agreeable lass now assisted the damsel to prepare for Don 
Quixote a very sorry bed in a garret, which gave evident 
tokens of having formerly served many years as a hay-loft. 
The bed consisted of four not very smooth boards upon two 
unequal tressels, and a mattress no thicker than a quilt, and 
full of knots, which from their hardness might have been taken 
for pebbles, had not the wool appeared through some fractures; 
with two sheets like the leather of an old target, and a rug the 
threads of which you might count, if you chose, without losing 
one of the number. 

In this wretched bed was Don Quixote laid; after which the 
hostess and her daughter plastered him from head to foot. 
And as the hostess was thus employed, perceiving Don Quixote 
to be mauled in every part, she said that his bruises seemed 
the effect of hard drubbing rather than of a fall. 

‘‘Not a drubbing,” said Sancho, “but the knobs and sharp 
points of the rock, every one of which has left its mark. And 
now I think of it,” added he, “pray contrive to spare a morsel 

[ 63 ] 


THE ADVENTURES OF DON QUIXOTE 


of that tow, as somebody may find it useful — indeed, I suspect 
that my sides would be glad of a little of it. ” 

‘‘What! you have had a fall, too, have you?” said the 
hostess. 

“No,” replied Sancho, “not a fall, but a fright, on seeing 
my master tumble, which so affected my whole body that I 
feel as if I had received a thousand blows myself. ” 

“That may very well be,” said the damsel, “for I have 
often dreamed that I was falling down from some high tower, 
and could never come to the ground; and when I awoke I 
have found myself as much bruised and battered as if I had 
really fallen.” 

“But here is the point,” answered Sancho Panza, “that I, 
without dreaming at all, and more awake than I am now, find 
myself with almost as many bruises as my master, Don Quixote.” 

“What do you say is the name of this gentleman?” 

“Don Quixote de la Mancha,” answered Sancho Panzo: 
“he is a knight-errant, and one of the best and most vahant 
that has been seen for this long time in the world. ” 

“What is a knight-errant?” said the girl. 

“Are you such a novice as not to know that?” answered 
Sancho Panza. “You must know, then, that a knight-errant 
is a thing that, in two words, is cudgelled and made. an emperor; 
today he is the most unfortunate wretch in the world, and 
tomorrow will have two or three crowns of kingdoms to give to 
his squire. ” 

“How comes it then to pass that you, being squire to this 
worthy gentleman,” said the hostess, “have not yet, as it 
seems, got so much as an earldom?” 

[ 64 ] 


THE ADVENTURES OF DON QUIXOTE 


‘Tt is early days yet,” answered Sancho, “for it is but a 
month since we set out in quest of adventures, and hitherto 
we have met with none that deserves the name. And some- 
times we look for one thing and find another. But the truth is, 
if my master, Don Quixote, recovers of this wound or fall, 
and I am not disabled thereby, I would not sell my hopes for 
the best title in Spain. ” 

To all this Don Quixote had listened very attentively; 
and now, raising himself up in the bed as well as he could, and 
taking the hand of his hostess, he said to her, “Believe me, 
beauteous lady, you may esteem yourself fortunate in having 
entertained me in this, your castle, being such a person that, 
if I say little of myself, it is because, as the proverb declares 
self-praise depreciates; but my squire will inform you who I 
am. I only say that I shall retain the service you have done 
me eternally engraved on my memory, and be grateful to you 
as long as my life shall endure. ” 

The hostess, her daughter, and the good maid stood con- 
founded at this harangue of our knight-errant, which they 
understood just as much as if he had spoken Greek, although 
they guessed that it all tended to compliments and offers of 
service; and not being accustomed to such kind of language, 
they gazed at him with surprise, and thought him another sort 
of man than those now in fashion; and after thanking him in 
their inn-like phrase for his offers, they left him. 

It happened that there lodged that night at the inn an 
officer belonging to the Holy Brotherhood of Toledo, who, 
hearing of the wounded man, seized his wand and the tin box 
which held his commission, and entered the room. And 
[ 65 ] 


THE ADVENTURES OF DON QUIXOTE 


Sancho, seeing him enter in his shirt, with a nightcap on his 
head, a lamp in his hand, and a countenance far from well 
favored, asked his master if it was some enchanted Moor 
coming to torment them. 

‘Tt cannot be the Moor,” answered Don Quixote, ‘‘for the 
enchanted suffer not themselves to be visible. ” 

The oflBcer, finding them communing in so calm a manner, 
stood in astonishment, although it is true that Don Quixote 
still lay fiat on his back, unable to stir, from bruises and 
plasters. The ofiicer approached him and said, “Well, my 
good fellow, how are you.^” 

“I would speak niore respectfully,” answered Don Quixote, 
“were I in your place. Is it the fashion of this country, block- 
head! thus to address knights-errant?” 

The officer, not disposed to bear this language from one of 
so poor an aspect, lifted up his lamp and dashed it, with all 
its contents, at the head of Don Quixote, and then made his 
retreat in the dark. 

“Surely,” quoth Sancho Panza, “this must be the en- 
chanted Moor; and he reserves the treasure for others, and 
for us only fisticuffs.” 

“It is even so,” answered Don Quixote; “and it is to no 
purpose to regard these affairs of enchantments, or to be out 
of humor or angry with them; for, being invisible, and mere 
phantoms, all endeavors to seek revenge would be fruitless. 
Rise, Sancho, if thou canst, and call the governor of this fortress, 
and procure me some oil, wine, salt, and rosemary, to make the 
healing balsam; for in truth I want it much at this time, as 
the wound this phantom has given me bleeds very fast. ” 

[ 66 ] 


THE ADVENTURES OF DON QUIXOTE 

Sancho got up with aching bones ; and as he was proceeding 
in the dark towards the landlord’s chamber, he met the officer 
who was watching the movements of his enemy, and said to 
him, “Sir, whoever you are, do us the favor and kindness to 
help us to a little rosemary, oil, salt and wine; for they are 
wanted to cure one of the best knights-errant in the world, 
who lies there sorely wounded by the hands of the enchanted 
Moor who is in this inn.” The officer, hearing this, took him 
for a maniac; and as the day now began to dawn, he opened 
the inn-door, and calling the host, told him what Sancho 
wanted. The innkeeper furnished him with what he desired, 
and Sancho carried them to Don Quixote, who lay with his 
hands on his head, complaining of the pain caused by the 
lamp, which, however, had done him no other hurt than rais- 
ing a couple of tolerably large lumps. In fine, he took his 
simples, and made a compound of them, mixing them together, 
and boiling them for some time, until he thought the mixture 
had arrived at the exact point. He then asked for a phial to 
hold it; but as there was no such thing in the inn, he resolved 
to put it in a tin oil-flask, of which the host made him a present. 
Having completed the operation, Don Quixote resolved to 
make trial immediately of the virtue of that precious balsam, 
and therefore drank about a pint and a half of what remained 
in the pot wherein it was boiled, after the flask was filled; and 
scarcely had he swallowed the potion than he was more ill than 
before. He continued asleep above three hours, when he 
awoke and found himself greatly relieved in his body, and his 
battered and bruised members so much restored that he con- 
sidered himself as perfectly recovered. 

[ 67 ] 


THE ADVENTURES OF DON QUIXOTE 


Sancho Panza, who likewise took his master’s amendment 
for a miracle, desired he would give him what remained in 
the pot, which was no small quantity. This request being 
granted, he took it in both hands, and with good faith and 
better will, swallowed down very little less than his master 
had done. Now the case was that poor Sancho’s stomach 
was not so delicate as that of his master; and therefore he 
endured such pangs and loathings that he verily thought his 
last hour was come; and finding himself so afilicted and tor- 
mented, he cursed the balsam, and the thief that had given it 
to him. 

Don Quixote, seeing him in that condition, said, ‘T believe, 
Sancho, that all this mischief hath befallen thee because thou 
art not dubbed a knight; for I am of opinion this liquor can 
do good only to those who are of that order. ” 

“If your worship knew that,” replied Sancho, “evil betide 
me and all my generation! why did you suffer me to drink it.^” 
By this time the beverage commenced its operation, and he 
became so ill that not only himself, but all present, thought he 
was expiring. The pangs lasted nearly two hours, and left 
him, not sound like his master, but so exhausted and shattered 
that he was unable to stand. Don Quixote, feeling, as we said 
before, quite renovated, was moved to take his departure 
immediately in quest of adventures, thinking that by every 
moment’s delay he was depriving the world of his aid and 
protection; and more especially as he felt secure and confident 
in the virtues of the balsam. Thus stimulated, he saddled 
Rozinante with his own hands, and pannelled the ass of his 
squire, whom he also helped to dress, and afterwards to mount. 

[ 68 ] 


THE ADVENTURES OF DON QUIXOTE 

He then mounted himself, and having observed a pike in a 
corner of the inn-yard, he took possession of it to serve him 
for a lance. All the people in the inn, above twenty in number, 
stood gazing at him, and among the rest, the host’s daughter, 
while he, on his part, removed not his eyes from her, and ever 
and anon sent forth a sigh which all believed to proceed from 
pain in his ribs — at least those who the night before had seen 
how he was plastered. 

Being now both mounted and at the door of the inn, he 
called to the host, and in a grave and solemn tone of voice 
said to him, ‘‘Many and great are the favors. Signor Governor, 
which in this your castle I have received, and I am bound to 
be grateful to you all the days of my life. If I can make you 
some compensation, by taking vengeance on any proud mis- 
creant who hath insulted you, know that the duty of my pro- 
fession is no other than to strengthen the weak, to revenge the 
injured, and to chastise the perfidious. Consider, and if your 
memory recalls anything of this nature to recommend to me, 
you need only declare it; for I promise you, by the order of 
knighthood I have received, to procure you satisfaction and 
amends to your heart’s desire!” 

The host answered with the same gravity, “Sir Knight, 
I have no need of your worship’s avenging any wrong for me; 
I know how to take the proper revenge when any injiuy is 
done me; all I desire of your worship is to pay me for what you 
have had in the inn, as well for the straw and barley for your 
two beasts, as for your supper and lodging.” 

“What! is this an inn.^^” exclaimed Don Quixote. 

‘‘Ay, and a very creditable one,” answered the host. 

[ 69 ] 


THE ADVENTURES OF DON QUIXOTE 


‘‘Hitherto, then, I have been in an error,” answered Don 
Quixote; “for in truth, I took it for a castle; but since it is 
indeed no castle, but an inn, all that you have now to do is to 
excuse the payment; for I cannot act contrary to the law of 
knights-errant, of whom I certainly know that they never 
paid for lodging, or anything else, in the inns where they 
reposed; because every accommodation is legally and justly 
due to them in return for the insufferable hardships they 
endure while in quest of adventures, by night and by day, in 
winter and in summer, on foot and on horseback, with thirst 
and with hunger, with heat and with cold; subject to all the 
inclemencies of heaven, and to all the inconveniences upon 
earth. ” 

“I see little to my purpose in all this,” answered the host; 
“pay me what is my due, and let me have none of your stories 
and knight-errantries; all I want is to get my own.” 

“Thou art a blockhead, and a pitiful innkeeper!” answered 
Don Quixote; so, clapping spurs to Rozinante and brandish- 
ing his lance, he sallied out of the inn without opposition, and 
never turning to see whether his squire followed him, was soon 
a good way off. 

The host, seeing him go without paying, ran to seize on 
Sancho Panza, who said that, since his master would not pay, 
neither would he pay; for being squire to a knight-errant, the 
same rule and reason held as good for him as for his master. 
The innkeeper, irritated on hearing this, threatened, if he did 
not pay him, he should repent his obstinacy. Sancho swore 
by the order of chivalry which his master had received, that 
he would not pay a single farthing, though it would cost him 

[ 70 ] 


THE ADVENTURES OF DON QUIXOTE 

his life; for the laudable and ancient usage of knights-errant 
should not be lost for him, nor should the squires of future 
knights have cause to reproach him for not maintaining so just 
a right. 

Poor Sancho’s ill luck would have it that among the people 
in the inn there were four cloth-workers of Segovia, three 
needle-makers from the fountain of Cordova, and two neigh- 
bors from the market-place of Seville, all merry, good-hum- 
ored, frolicsome fellows; who, instigated and moved, as it 
appeared, by the selfsame spirit, came up to Sancho, and hav- 
ing dismounted him, one of them produced a blanket from the 
landlord’s bed, into which he was immediately thrown; but 
perceiving that the ceiling was too low, they determined to 
execute their purpose in the yard, which was bounded upwards 
only by the sky. Thither Sancho was carried; and being 
placed in the middle of the blanket, they began to toss him 
aloft, and divert themselves with him. The cries which the 
poor blanketed squire sent forth were so many and so loud 
that they reached his master’s ears; who, stopping to listen 
attentively, believed that some new adventure was at hand, 
until he plainly recognized the voice of the squire: then turn- 
ing the reins, he galloped back to the inn-door, and finding it 
closed, he rode round in search of some other entrance; but 
had no sooner reached the yard-wall, which was not very high, 
when he perceived the wicked sport they were making with 
his squire. He saw him ascend and descend through the air 
with so much grace and agility that, if his indignation would 
have suffered him, he certainly would have laughed out- 
right. He made an effort to get from his horse upon the pales, 

[71] 


THE ADVENTURES OF DON QUIXOTE 


but was so maimed and bruised that he was unable to alight; 
and therefore, remaining on horseback, he proceeded to vent 
his rage by uttering many reproaches and invectives against 
those who were tossing Sancho. But they suspended neither 
their laughter nor their labor; nor did the flying Sancho cease 
to pour forth lamentations, mingled now with threats, now 
with entreaties; yet all were of no avail, and they desisted at 
last only from pure fatigue. They then brought him his ass, 
and wrapping him in his cloak, mounted him thereon. The 
compassionate maid, seeing him so exhausted, bethought of 
helping him to a jug of water, and that it might be the cooler, 
she fetched it from the well. Sancho took it, and as he was 
lifting it to his mouth stopped on hearing the voice of his 
master, who called to him aloud, saying, ‘‘Son Sancho, drink 
not water; do not drink it, son; it will kill thee; behold here 
the most holy balsam” (showing him the cruse of liquor) 
“two drops of which will infallibly restore thee.” 

At these words, Sancho, turning his eyes askance, said in 
a louder voice, “Perhaps you have forgot, sir, that I am no 
knight, or you would not have me sick again. Keep your 
liquor and let me alone. ” 

He then instantly began to drink; but at the flrst sip, 
finding it was water, he could proceed no further, and besought 
the maid to bring him some wine, which she did willingly, and 
paid for it with her own money. 

When Sancho had ceased drinking he clapped heels to his 
ass, and the inn gate being thrown wide open, out he went, 
satisfied that he had paid nothing, and had carried his point, 
though at the expense of his usual pledge, namely, his back. 

[ 72 ] 


THE ADVENTURES OF DON QUIXOTE 


The landlord, it is true, retained his wallets in payment of 
what was due to him; but Sancho never missed them in the 
hurry of his departure. The innkeeper would have fastened 
the door well after him as soon as he saw him out, but the 
blanketeers would not let him, being persons of that sort that, 
though Don Quixote had really been one of the knights of the 
Round Table, they would not have cared two farthings for 
him. 

Sancho came up to his master, so faint and dispirited that 
he was not able to urge his ass forward. Don Quixote, per- 
ceiving him in that condition, said, “Honest Sancho, that 
castle, or inn, I am now convinced, is enchanted; for they who 
so cruelly sported with thee, what could they be but phantoms 
and inhabitants of another world And I am confirmed in 
this from having found that, when I stood at the pales of the 
yard, beholding the acts of your sad tragedy, I could not pos- 
sibly get over them, nor even alight from Rozinante; so that 
they must certainly have held me enchanted; for I swear to 
thee that if I could have got over, or alighted, I would have 
avenged thee in such a manner as would have made those 
poltroons and assassins remember the jest as long as they 
lived, even though I would have thereby transgressed the 
laws of chivalry; for as I have often told thee, they do not 
allow a knight to lay hand on his sword against any one who 
is not so imless it be in defence of his own life and person, and 
in cases of urgent and extreme necessity. ” 

“And I, too,” quoth Sancho, “would have revenged myself 
if I had been able, knight or no knight, but I could not, though, 
in my opinion, they who diverted themselves at my expense 
[ 73 ] 


THE ADVENTURES OF DON QUIXOTE 


were no hobgoblins, but men of flesh and bones, as we are; 
and each of them, as I heard while they were tossing me, had 
his proper name. So that, sir, as to your not being able to leap 
over the pales nor to alight from your horse, the fault lay not 
in enchantment, but in something else. And what I gather 
clearly from all this is, that these adventures we are in quest 
of will in the long run bring us into so many misadventures 
that we shall not know which is our right foot. So that, in 
my poor opinion, the better and surer way would be to return 
to our village.” 

‘‘How little dost thou know, Sancho,” answered Don 
Quixote, “of what appertains to chivalry! Peace, and have 
patience, for the day will come when thine eyes shall witness 
how honorable a thing it is to follow this profession, for tell 
me, what greater satisfaction can the world afford, or what 
pleasure can be compared with that of winning a battle, and 
triumphing over an adversary? Undoubtedly none.” 

“It may be so,” answered Sancho, “though I do not know 
it. I only know that since we have been knights-errant, or 
since you have been one, sir, we have never won any battle, 
except that of the Biscayan; and even there your worship 
came off with half an ear and half a helmet; and from that day 
to this we have had nothing but drubbings upon drubbings, 
cuffs upon cuffs, with my blanket-tossing into the bargain, 
and that by persons enchanted, on whom I cannot revenge 
myself, and thereby know what that pleasure of overcoming 
an enemy is which your worship talks of. ” 

“That is what troubles me, and ought to trouble thee, 
also, Sancho,” answered Don Quixote; “but henceforward I 

[ 74 ] 


THE ADVENTURES OF DON QUIXOTE 


will endeavor to have ready at hand a sword made with such 
art that no kind of enchantment can touch him that wears it; 
and perhaps fortune may put me in possession of one like that 
of Amadis, when he called himself Knight of the Burning 
Sword, which was one of the best weapons that ever was worn 
by knight; for besides the virtue aforesaid, it cut like a razor; 
and no armor, however strong or enchanted, could withstand 
it.” 

“Such is my luck,” quoth Sancho, “that though this were 
so, and your worship should find such a sword, it would be of 
service only to those who are dubbed knights — like the balsam: 
as for the poor squires, they may sing sorrow. ” 

“Fear not, Sancho,” said Don Quixote; “Heaven will yet 
deal more kindly by thee.” 


[ 75 ] 


CHAPTER VIII 


THE ADVENTURES OF THE TWO ARMIES 
[E knight and his squire went on conferring thus 



together, when Don Quixote perceived in the road 


^ on which they were travelling a great and thick 
cloud of dust coining towards them; upon which he turned to 
Sancho and said, ‘‘This is a day, O Sancho, that shall manifest 
the good that fortune hath in store for me. This is the day, 
I say, on which shall be proved, as at all times, the valor of my 
arm, and on which I shall perform exploits that will be recorded 
and written in the book of fame, and there remain to all suc- 
ceeding ages. Seest thou that cloud of dust, Sancho? It is 
raised by a prodigious army of divers and innumerable nations, 
who are on the march this way. ” 

“If so, there must be armies,” said Sancho; “for here, on 
this side, arises just such another cloud of dust. ” 

Don Quixote turned, and seeing that it really was so, he 
rejoiced exceedingly, taking it for granted they were two 
armies coming to engage in the midst of that spacious plain; 
for at all hours and moments his imagination was full of the 
battles, enchantments, adventures, extravagances, loves, and 
challenges detailed in his favorite books; and in every thought, 
word, and action he reverted to them. Now, the cloud of 


[ 76 ] 


THE ADVENTURES OF DON QUIXOTE 


dust he saw was raised by two great flocks of sheep going the 
same road from different parts, and^as the dust concealed them 
until they came near, and Don Quixote affirmed so positively 
that they were armies, Sancho began to believe it, and said, 
‘‘Sir, what. then must we do?” 

“What?” replied Don Quixote, “favor and assist the 
weaker side ! Thou must know, Sancho, that the army which 
marches towards us in front is led and commanded by the 
great Emperor Alifanfaron, lord of the great island of Tapro- 
bana; the other which inarches behind us, is that of his enemy, 
the King of the Garamantes, Pentapolin of the Naked Arm, 
for he always enters into battle with his right arm bare. ” 
“But why do these two princes bear one another so much 
ill-will?” demanded Sancho. 

“They hate one another,” answered Don Quixote, “because 
this Alifanfaron is a furious pagan, in love with the daughter 
of Pentapolin, who is a most beautiful and superlatively 
graceful lady, and also a Christian; but her father will not 
give her in marriage to the pagan king unless he will first 
renounce the religion of his false prophet.” 

“By my beard,” said Sancho, “Pentapolin is in the right; 
and I am resolved to assist him to the utmost of my power. ” 
“Therein thou wilt do thy duty, Sancho,” said Don 
Quixote; “for in order to engage in such a contest it is not 
necessary to be dubbed a knight. ” 

“I easily comprehend that,” answered Sancho. “But 
where shall we dispose of this ass, that we may be sure to find 
him when the fray is over? for I believe it was never yet the 
fashion to go to battle on a beast of this kind. ” 

[ 77 ] 


THE ADVENTURES OF DON QUIXOTE 


“Thou art in the right,” said Don Quixote; “and thou 
mayest let him take his chance whether he be lost or not, for 
we shall have such choice of horses after the victory that 
Rozinante himself will run a risk of being exchanged. But 
listen with attention whilst I give thee an account of the 
principal knights in the two approaching armies; and that 
thou mayest observe them the better, let us retire to that rising 
ground, whence both armies may be distinctly seen. ” 

They did so, and placed themselves for that purpose on a 
hillock, from which the two flocks which Don Quixote mistook 
for armies might easily have been discerned had not their view 
been obstructed by the clouds of dust. Seeing, however, in 
his imagination what did not exist, he began with a loud voice 
to say: “The knight thou seest yonder with the gilded armor, 
who bears on his shield a lion crowned, couchant at a damsel’s 
feet, is the valorous Laurcalco, lord of the Silver Bridge. The 
other, with the armor flowered with gold,]who bears the three 
crowns argent in a field azure, is the formidable Micocolembo, 
Grand Duke of Quiracia. The third, with gigantic limbs, who 
marches on his right, is the undaunted Brandabarbaran of 
Boliche, lord of the three Arabias. He is armed with a 
serpent’s skin, and bears instead of a shield, a gate, which fame 
says is one of those belonging to the temple which Samson 
pulled down when with his death he avenged himself upon his 
enemies. But turn thine eyes on this other side, and there 
thou wilt see, in front of this other army, the ever-victorious 
and never-vanquished Timonel de Carcajona, Prince of the 
New Biscay, who comes clad in armor quartered azure, vert, 
argent, and or; bearing on his shield a cat or in a field gules, 
[ 78 ] 



The Adventure oj the Sheep 







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THE ADVENTURES OF DON QUIXOTE 


with a scroll inscribed MIAU, being the beginning of his 
mistress’s name; who, it is reported, is the peerless Miaulina, 
daughter of Alphenniquen, Duke of Algarve. That other, 
who burdens and oppresses the back of yon powerful steed, 
whose armor is as white as snow, and his shield also white, 
without any device, he is a new knight, by birth a Frenchman, 
called Peter Papin, lord of the baronies of Utrique. The other 
whom thou seest, with his armed heels pricking the flanks of 
that fleet piebald courser, and his armor of pure azure, is the 
mighty Duke of Nerbia, Espartafllardo of the Wood, whose 
device is an asparagus-bed, with this motto in Castilian, 
^Rastrea mi suerte" (‘Thus drags my fortune’).” 

In this manner he went on naming sundry knights of each 
squadron, as his fancy dictated, and giving to each their arms, 
colors, devices, and mottoes extempore. 

Sancho Panza stood confounded at his discourse, without 
speaking a word; and now and then he turned his head about 
to see whether he could discover the knights and giants his 
master named. But seeing none, he said, “Sir, not a man 
or giant, or knight, of all you have named, can I see anywhere; 
perhaps all may be enchantment, like last night’s goblins. ” 

“How sayest thou, Sancho answered Don Quixote. 
“Hearest thou not the neighing of the steeds, the sound of the 
trumpets, and the rattling of the drums?” 

“I hear nothing,” answered Sancho, “but the bleating of 
sheep and lambs.” And so it was, for now the two flocks 
were come very near them. 

“Thy fears, Sancho,” said Don Quixote, “prevent thee 
from hearing or seeing aright; for one effect of fear is to 

[ 79 ] 


THE ADVENTURES OF DON QUIXOTE 


disturb the senses, and make things not to appear what they 
really arej and if thou art so much afraid, retire and leave me 
alone; for with my single arm I shall insure victory to that 
side which I favor with my assistance. ” Then clapping spurs 
to Rozinante and setting his lance in rest, he darted down the 
hillock like lightning. 

Sancho cried out to him, “Hold, Signor Don Quixote, 
come back! They are lambs and sheep you are going to 
encounter! Pray come back. What madness is this? Look; 
there is neither giant nor knight, nor cats, nor arms, nor shields 
quartered nor entire, nor true azures nor bedevilled! Sinner 
that I am! what are you doing?” 

Notwithstanding all this, Don Quixote turned not again, 
but still went on, crying aloud, “Ho, knights! you that follow 
and fight under the banner of the valiant Emperor Pentapolin 
of the Naked Arm, follow me all, and you shall see with how 
much ease I revenge him on his enemy Alifanfaron of Tapro- 
bana. ” 

With these word he rushed into the midst of the squadron 
of sheep, and began to attack them with his lance as courage- 
ously and intrepidly as if in good earnest he was engaging his 
mortal enemies. The shepherds and herdsmen who came with 
the flocks called out to him to desist; but seeing it was to no 
purpose, they unbuckled their slings, and began to salute his 
ears with a shower of stones. 

Don Quixote cared not for the stones; but galloping about 
on all sides, cried out, “Where art thou, proud Alifanfaron? 
Present thyself before me; I am a single knight, desirous to 
prove thy valor hand to hand, and to punish thee with the loss 

[ 80 ] 


THE ADVENTURES OF DON QUIXOTE 


of life for the wrong thou dost to the valiant Pentapolin Gara- 
manta.” At that instant a large stone struck him with such 
violence on the side that it buried a couple of ribs in his body; 
insomuch that he believed himself either slain or sorely 
wounded; and therefore, remembering his balsam, he pulled 
out the tin vessel, and applying it to his mouth, began to 
swallow some of the liquor; but before he could take what he 
thought sufficient, another of those almonds hit him full on the 
hand and dashed the tin to pieces, carrying off three or four of 
his teeth by the way, and grievously bruising two of his fingers. 
Such was the first blow, and such the second, that the poor 
knight fell from his horse to the ground. The shepherds ran 
to him, and verily believed they had killed him; whereupon, 
in all haste, they collected their flock, took up their dead, which 
were about seven, and marched off without further inquiry. 

All this while Sancho stood upon the hillock, beholding his 
master’s extravagances; tearing his beard, and cursing the 
unfortunate hour and moment that ever he knew him. But 
seeing him fallen to the ground, and the shepherds gone off, 
he descended from the hillock, and running to him, found him 
in a very ill plight, though not quite bereaved of sense, and 
said to him, “Did I not beg of you. Signor Don Quixote, to 
come back, for those you went to attack were a flock of sheep, 
and not an army of men.^” 

“How easily,” replied Don Quixote, “can that thief of an 
enchanter, my enemy, transform things or make them invisible! 
Thou must know, Sancho, that it is a very easy matter for 
such men to give things what semblance they please; and this 
malignant persecutor of mine, envious of the glory that he saw 

[ 81 ] 


THE ADVENTURES OF DON QUIXOTE 


I should acquire in this battle, has transformed the hostile 
squadrons into flocks of sheep. However, do one thing, 
Sancho, for my sake, to undeceive thyself and see the truth of 
what I tell thee; mount thy ass and follow them fairly and 
softly, and thou wilt find that when they are got a little farther 
off they will return to their first form, and ceasing to be sheep, 
will become men, proper and tall as I described them at first. 
But do not go now, for I want thy assistance; come and see 
how many of my teeth are deficient, for it seems to me that I 
have not one left in my head. ” 

Sancho ran to his ass, to take something out of his wallets 
to cure his master; but not finding them, he was very near 
running distracted. He cursed himself again, and resolved 
in his mind to leave his master, return home, although he 
should lose his wages for the time past, and his hopes of the 
promised island. 

Don Quixote now raised himself up, and placing his left 
hand on his mouth to prevent the remainder of his teeth from 
falling out, with the other he laid hold of Rozinante’s bridle, 
who had not stirred from his master’s side — such was his 
fidelity — and went towards his squire, who stood leaning with 
his breast upon the ass, and his cheek reclining upon his hand, 
in the posture of a man overwhelmed with thought. Don 
Quixote, seeing him thus, and to all appearance so melancholy, 
said to him, ‘‘Know, Sancho, that one man is no more than 
another, only inasmuch as he does more than another. All 
these storms that we have encountered are signs that the 
weather will soon clear up, and things will go smoothly; for 
it is impossible that either evil or good should be durable; and 

[ 82 ] 


THE ADVENTURES OF DON QUIXOTE 


hence it follows that, the evil having lasted long, the good 
cannot be far off. So do not afflict thyself for the mischances 
that befall me, since thou hast no share in them. ” 

“How no share in them.^” answered Sancho: “perad ven- 
ture he they tossed in a blanket yesterday was not my father’s 
son; and the wallets I have lost today, with all my movables, 
belong to somebody else?” 

“What! are the wallets lost?” quoth Don Quixote. 

“Yes, they are,” answered Sancho. 

“Then we have nothing to eat today, ” replied Don Quixote. 
“It would be so,” answered Sancho, “if these fields did not 
produce those herbs which your worship says you know, and 
with which unlucky knights-errant like your worship are used 
to supply such wants. ” 

“Nevertheless,” said Don Quixote, “at this time I would 
rather have a slice of bread than all the herbs. But, good 
Sancho, get upon thy ass and follow me. 

“And lead me whither thou wilt; for this time I leave our 
lodging to thy choice. But reach hither thy hand and feel 
how many teeth are wanting on the right side of my upper jaw, 
for there I feel the pain. ” 

Sancho put his finger into his mouth, and feeling about 
said, “How many teeth had your worship on this side?” 

“Four,” answered Don Quixote, “besides the eye-tooth, 
all perfect and sound. ” 

“Think well what you say, sir, ” answered Sancno. “ I say 
four, if not five,” answered Don Quixote; “for in my whole 
life I never had a tooth drawn, nor have I lost one. ” 

“Well, then,” said Sancho, ^*on this lower side your wor- 
[83] 


THE ADVENTURES OF DON QUIXOTE 


ship has but two teeth and a half; and in the upper, neither 
half nor whole; all is as smooth and even as the palm of my 
hand. ” 

‘‘Unfortunate that I am!” said Don Quixote, hearing these 
sad tidings from his squire: “I had rather they had torn off an 
arm, provided it were not the sword-arm; for thou must know, 
Sancho, that a mouth without teeth is like a mill without a 
stone, and that a diamond is not so precious as a tooth. But 
to all this we who profess the strict order of chivalry are liable. 
Mount, friend Sancho, and lead on; for I will follow thee at 
what pace thou wilt.” 


[ 84 ] 


CHAPTER IX 


THE ADVENTURES OF LITTLE HAZARD 

W HILE they were discoursing, night overtook them, 
and they were still in the high-road, without hav- 
ing found any place of reception: and the worst 
of it was, they were famished with hunger, for with their 
wallets they had lost their whole larder of provisions. The 
night came on rather dark; notwithstanding which they 
proceeded, as Sancho hoped that, being on the king’s highway, 
they might very probably find an inn within a league or two. 

Driving on his ass before him, he entreated his master to 
follow. They had not gone far between two hills, when they 
found themselves in a retired and spacious valley, where they 
alighted. Sancho disburdened his beast; and extended on 
the green grass, with hunger for sauce, they despatched their 
breakfast, dinner, afternoon’s luncheon, and supper, all aj 
once. But there was another misfortune, which Sancho 
accounted the worst of all; namely, they had no wine, nor 
even water, to drink, and were, moreover, parched with thirst. 

“It is impossible, sir,” said Sancho, “but there must be 
some fountain or brook near, to make these herbs so fresh, and 
therefore, if we go a little farther on, we may meet with some- 
thing to quench the terrible thirst that afflicts us, and which is 
more painful than even hunger itself. ” 

[ 85 ] 


THE ADVENTURES OF DON QUIXOTE 


Don Quixote approved the counsel, and taking Rozinante 
by the bridle, and Sancho his ass by the halter, they began to 
march forward through the meadow, feeling their way; for 
the night was so dark they could see nothing. But they had 
not gone two hundred paces when a great noise of water 
reached their ears, like that of some mighty cascade pouring 
down from a vast and steep rock. The sound rejoiced them 
exceedingly, and stopping to listen whence it came, they heard 
on a sudden another dreadful noise, which abated the pleasure 
occasioned by that of the water; especially in Sancho, who was 
naturally faint-hearted. I say they heard a dreadful din of 
irons or rattling chains, accompanied with mighty strokes 
repeated in regular time and measure; which, together with 
the furious noise of the water, would have struck terror into 
any other heart but that of Don Quixote. 

The night, as we have before said, was dark, and they 
chanced to enter a grove of tall trees, whose leaves, agitated by 
the breeze, caused a kind of rustling noise, not loud, though 
fearful; so that the solitude, the situation, the darkness, and 
the sound of rushing water, with the agitated leaves, all con- 
curred to produce surprise and horror, especially when they 
found that neither the blows ceased, nor the wind slept, nor 
the morning approached; and in addition to all this was their 
total ignorance of the place they were in. 

But Don Quixote, supported by his intrepid heart, leaped 
upon Rozinante, and bracing on his buckler, brandished his 
spear and said, “Friend Sancho, know that, by the will of 
Heaven, I was born in this age of iron to revive in it that of 
gold, or, as it is usually termed, the Golden Age. I am he for 

[ 86 ] 


THE ADVENTURES OF DON QUIXOTE 

whom dangers, great exploits, and valorous achievements are 
reserved: I am he, I say again, who am destined to revive the 
order of the Round Table, that of the twelve peers of France, 
and the nine worthies; and to obliterate the memory of the 
Platirs, the Tablantes, Olivantes, and Tirantes, Knights of the 
Sun, and the Belianises, with the whole tribe of the famous 
knights-errant of times past; performing, in this age, such 
stupendous deeds and feats of arms as are sufficient to obscure 
the brightest ever achieved by them. Trusty and loyal squire, 
observe the darkness of this night, its strange silence, the con- 
fused sound of these trees, the fearful noise of that water which 
we came hither in search of, and which, one would think, pre- 
cipitates itself headlong from the high mountains of the moon; 
that incessant striking and clashing which wounds our ears; 
all these together, and even each separately, are sufficient to 
infuse terror, fear, and amazement into the breast of Mars 
himself; how much more into that of one unaccustomed to 
such adventures! Yet all I have described serves but to rouse 
and awaken my courage, and my heart already bounds within 
my breast with eager desire to encounter this adventure, 
however difficult it may appear. Therefore, tighten Rozi- 
nante’s girth, and all be well with thee! Stay for me here 
three days, and no more: if I return not in that time, thou 
mayest go back to our village; and thence, to oblige me, 
repair to Toboso, and inform my incomparable lady Dulcinea 
that her enthralled knight died in attempting things that 
might have made him worthy to be styled hers. ” 

When Sancho heard these words of his master he dissolved 
into tears and said, ‘‘Sir, I cannot think why your worship 

[ 87 ] 


THE ADVENTURES OF DON QUIXOTE 


should encounter this fearful adventure. It is now night, and 
nobody sees us. We may easily turn aside and get out of 
danger, though we should not drink these three days; and 
being unseen, we cannot be taxed with cowardice. I left my 
country and forsook my wife and children to follow and serve 
your worship, believing I should be the better and not the 
worse for it, and obtain that cursed and imlucky island which 
you have so often promised me; now I find myself, in lieu 
thereof, ready to be abandoned by your worship in a place 
remote from everything human. Dear sir, do not be so cruel 
to me; and if your worship will not wholly give up this enter- 
prise, at least defer it till daybreak, which, by what I learned 
when a shepherd, cannot be above three hours.” ‘‘Be what 
it may,” answered Don Quixote, “it shall never be said of 
me, now or at any time, that tears or entreaties could dissuade 
me from performing the duty of a knight. All thou hast to do 
is to girt Rozinante well, and remain here; for I will quickly 
return alive or dead.” 

Sancho, now seeing his master’s final resolution, and how 
little his tears, prayers and counsel availed, determined to 
have recourse to stratagem, and compel him, if possible, to 
wait until day; therefore, while he was tightening the horse’s 
girths, softly and unperceived, with his halter he tied Rozi- 
nante’s hinder feet together, so that when Don Quixote would 
fain have departed, the horse could move only by jumps. 
Sancho, perceiving the success of his contrivance, said, “Ah, 
sir! behold how Heaven, moved by my tears and prayers, has 
ordained that Rozinante should be unable to stir; and if you 
obstinately persist to spur him, vou will but provoke fortune. ’’ 

[88] 


THE ADVENTURES OF DON QUIXOTE 

This made Don Quixote quite desperate, and the more he 
spurred his horse the less he could move him; he therefore 
thought it best to be quiet and wait imtil day appeared, or 
until Rozinante could proceed, never suspecting the artifice, 
and he thus addressed Sancho: “Since so it is, Sancho, that 
Rozinante cannot move, I consent to wait until the dawn 
smiles, although I weep in the interval. ” 

“You need not weep,” answered Sancho, “for I will enter- 
tain you until day by telling you stories, if you had not rather 
alight and compose yourself to sleep a little upon the green 
grass, as knights-errant are wont to do, so that you may be 
less weary when the day and hour comes for engaging in that 
terrible adventure you wait for. ” 

“To whom dost thou talk of alighting or sleeping.^” said 
Don Quixote, “am I one of those knights who take repose in 
time of danger.? Sleep thou, who wert born to sleep, or do 
what thou wilt: I shall act as becomes my profession.” 

“Pray, good sir, be not angry,” answered Sancho, “I 
did not mean to offend you;” and coming close to him, he 
laid hold of the saddle before and behind, and thus stood, 
embracing his master’s left thigh, without daring to stir from 
him a finger’s breadth, so much was he afraid of the blows 
which still continued to sound in regular succession. 

When Sancho perceived the dawn of morning, with much 
caution he unbound Rozinante, who, on being set at liberty 
though naturally not over-mettlesome, seemed to feel himself 
alive, and began to paw the ground. Don Quixote, perceiving 
that Rozinante began to be active, took it for a good omen, 
and a signal that he should forthwith attempt the tremendous 

[ 89 ] 


THE ADVENTURES OF DON QUIXOTE 


adventure. The dawn now making the surrounding objects 
visible, Don Quixote perceived he was beneath some tall 
chestnut trees, which afforded a gloomy shade; but the cause 
of that striking, which yet continued, he was unable to dis- 
cover; therefore, without further delay, he made Rozinante 
feel the spur, and again taking leave of Sancho, commanded 
him to wait there three days at the furthest, as he had said 
before, and that if he returned not by that time he might con- 
clude that he should end his days in that perilous adventure. 
He again also repeated the embassy and message he was to 
carry to his lady Dulcinea; and as to what concerned the 
reward of his service, he told him that he need be under no 
concern, since, before his departure from his village, he had 
made his will, wherein he would find himself satisfied regarding 
his wages, in proportion to the time he had served; but if he 
should come off safe and sound from the impending danger, 
he might reckon himself infallibly secure of the promised 
island. 

Sancho wept afresh at hearing again the moving expres- 
sions of his good master, and resolved not to leave him till the 
last moment and termination of this affair. His master was 
somewhat moved by it; not that he betrayed any weakness; 
on the contrary, dissembling as well as he could, he advanced 
towards the place whence the noise of the water and of the 
strokes seemed to proceed. Sancho followed him on foot, 
leading his ass — that constant companion of his fortunes, 
good or bad. And having proceeded some distance among 
those shady chestnut trees, they came to a little green meadow, 
bounded by some steep rocks, down which a mighty torrent 

[ 90 ] 


THE ADVENTURES OF DON QUIXOTE 

precipitated itself. At the foot of these rocks were several 
wretched huts, that seemed more like ruins than habitable 
dwellings; and it was from them, they now discovered, that 
the fearful din proceeded. Rozinante was startled at the 
noise, but Don Quixote, after quieting him, went slowly on 
towards the huts, recommending himself devoutly to his lady 
and beseeching her to favor him in so terrific an enterprise* 
Sancho kept close to his side, stretching out his neck and look- 
ing between Rozinante’ s legs to see if he could discover the 
cause of his terrors. In this manner they advanced about a 
hundred yards further, when, on doubling a point, the true 
and imdoubted cause of that horrible noise which had held 
them all night in such suspense appeared plain and exposed 
to view. It was six fulling-hammers, whose alternate strokes 
produced that hideous sound. Don Quixote, on beholding them 
was struck dumb, and was in the utmost confusion. Sancho 
looked at him, and saw he hung down his head upon his breast 
with manifest indications of being abashed. Don Quixote 
looked also at Sancho, and seeing his cheeks swollen, and hi& 
mouth full of laughter, betraying evident signs of being ready 
to explode, notwithstanding his vexation he could not forbear 
laughing himself at the sight of his squire, who, thus encour- 
aged by his master, broke forth in so violent a manner that he 
was forced to apply both hands to his sides to secure himself 
from bursting. Four times he ceased, and four times the fit 
returned, with the same impetuosity as at first. Upon which 
Don Quixote now wished him away, especially when he heard 
him say ironically, ‘‘ ‘Thou must know, friend Sancho, that 
I was born in this our age of iron, to revive in it the golden, 

[ 91 ] 


THE ADVENTURES OF DON QUIXOTE 


or that of gold. I am he for whom are reserved dangers, great 
exploits, and valorous achievements! And so he went on, 
repeating many of the expressions which Don Quixote used 
upon first hearing those dreadful sounds. Don Quixote, per- 
ceiving that Sancho made a jest of him, was so enraged that 
he lifted up his lance and discharged two such blows on him 
that, had he received them on his head instead of his shoulders, 
the knight would have acquitted himself of the payment of 
his wages, unless it were to his heirs. 

Sancho, finding he paid so dearly for his jokes, and fearing 
lest his master should proceed further, with much humility 
said, “Pray, sir, be pacified; I did but jest.” 

“Though thou mayest jest, I do not,” answered Don 
Quixote. “Come hither, merry sir, what thinkest thou.^ 
Supposing these mill-hammers had really been some perilous 
adventure, have I not given proof of the courage requisite to 
undertake and achieve it? Am I obliged, being a knight, as I 
am, to distinguish sounds, and know which are, or are not, 
those of a fulling-mill, more especially if I had never seen any 
fulling-mills in my life, as thou hast — a pitiful rustic as thou 
art, who wert born and bred amongst them! But let these 
six fulling-hammers be transformed into six giants, and let 
them beard me one by one, or all together, and if I do not set 
them all on their heads, then make what jest thou wilt of me. ” 

“It is enough, good sir,” replied Sancho; “I confess I 
have been a little too jocose; but pray tell me, now that there 
is peace between us.” 

“I do not deny,” answered Don Quixote, “that what has 
befallen us may be risible, but it is not proper to be repeated; 

[ 92 ] 


THE ADVENTURES OF DON QUIXOTE 


for all persons have not the sense to see things in the right 
point of view.” 

‘‘But,” answered Sancho, “your worship knew how to 
point your lance aright when you pointed it at my head, and 
hit me on the shoulders. ” “ Excuse what is done, ” quoth Don 

Quixote, “since thou art considerate; for know that first 
impulses are not under man’s control; and that thou mayest 
abstain from talking too much with me henceforth, I apprise 
thee of one thing, that in all the books of chivalry I ever read, 
numerous as they are, I recollect no example of a squire who 
conversed so much with his master as thou dost with thine. 
The favors and benefits I promised thee will come in due time ; 
and if they do not come, the wages, at least, thou wilt not 
lose.” 

“Your worship says very well,” quoth Sancho: “but I 
would fain know (if perchance the time of the favors should 
not come, and it should be necessary to have recourse to the 
article of the wages) how much might the squire of a knight- 
errant get in those times? and whether they agreed by the 
month or by the day, like laborers?” 

“I do not believe,” answered Don Quixote, “that those 
squires were retained at stated wages, but they relied on 
courtesy; and if I have appointed thee any in the will I left 
sealed at home, it was in case of accidents; for I know not 
yet how chivalry may succeed in these calamitous times, and I 
would not have my soul suffer in the other world for trifies; 
for I would have thee know, Sancho, that there is no state more 
perilous than that of adventurers.” 

“It is so, in truth,” said Sancho, “since the noise of the 
[ 93 ] 


THE ADVENTURES OF DON QUIXOTE 


hammers of a fulling-mill were sufficient to disturb and dis- 
compose the heart of so valorous a knight as your worship. 
But you may depend upon it that henceforward I shall not 
open my lips to make merry with your worship’s concerns, 
but shall honor you as my master and natural lord. ” 

“By so doing,” replied Don Quixote, “thy days shall be 
long in the land; for next to our parents, we are bound to 
respect our masters.” 


194 ] 


CHAPTER X 


THE GRAND ADVENTURE AND RICH PRIZE OF 
MAMBRINO’S HELMET 

A bout this time it began to rain a little, and 
Sancho proposed entering the fulling-mill; but Don 
Quixote had conceived such an abhorrence of 
them for the late jest, that he would by no means go in; 
turning, therefore, to the right hand, they struck into another 
road, like that they had travelled through the day before. 
Soon after, Don Quixote discovered a man on horseback, who 
had on his head something which glittered as if it had been of 
gold; and scarcely had he seen it, when, turning to Sancho, 
he said, ‘‘I am of opinion, Sancho, there is no proverb but 
what is true, because they are all sentences drawn from 
experience itself, the mother of all the sciences; especially that 
which says, ‘Where one door is shut another is open.’ I say 
this because, if fortune last night shut the door against what 
we sought, deceiving us with the fulling-mills, it now opens 
wide another, for a better and more certain adventure; in 
which, if I am deceived, the fault will be mine, without imput- 
ing it to my ignorance of fulling-mills or to the darkness of 
night. This I say because, if I mistake not, there comes one 
towards us who carries on his head Mambrino’s helmet, con- 
cerning which thdu mayest remember I swore the oath. ” 

[ 95 ] 


THE ADVENTURES OF DON QUIXOTE 


‘‘Take care, sir, what you say, and more what you do,” 
said Sancho; “for I would not wish for other fulling-mills, 
to finish the milling and mashing of our senses. ” 

“Away with thee!” replied Don Quixote: “what has a 
helmet to do with fulling-mills.^” 

“I know not,” answered Sancho; “but in faith, if I might 
talk as much as I used to do, perhaps I could give such reasons 
that your worship would see you are mistaken in what you 
say.” 

“How can I be mistaken in what I say, thou scrupulous 
traitor.^” said Don Quixote. “Tell me, seest thou not yon 
knight coming towards us on a dapple-gray steed, with a 
helmet of gold on his head?” 

“What I see and perceive,” answered Sancho, “is only a 
man on a gray ass like mine, with something on his head that 
glitters. ” 

“Why, that is Mambrino’s helmet,” said Don Quixote. 
“Retire, and leave me alone to deal with him, and thou shalt 
see how, in order to save time, I shall conclude this adventure 
without speaking a word, and the helmet I have so much 
desired remain my own.” 

“I shall take care to get out of the way,” replied Sancho, 
“but Heaven grant, I say again, it may not prove another 
fulling-mill adventure. ” 

“I have already told thee, Sancho, not to mention those 
fulling-mills nor even think of them,” said Don Quixote: 
“if thou dost — I say no more, but I vow to mill thy soul for 
thee!” Sancho held his peace, fearing lest his master should 
perform his vow, which had struck him all of a heap. 

[ 96 ] 


THE ADVENTURES OF DON QUIXOTE 


Now, the truth of the matter concerning the hehnet, the 
steed, and the knight which Don Quixote saw, was this: There 
were two villages in that neighborhood, one of them so small 
that it had neither shop nor barber, but the other adjoining to 
it had both; therefore the barber of the larger served also the 
less. The barber was on his way, between the two villages, 
carrying with him his brass basin; and it so happened that 
while upon the road it began to rain, and to save his hat, 
which was a new one, he clapped the basin on his head, which 
being lately scoured, was seen glittering at the distance of 
half a league; and he rode on a gray ass, as Sancho had 
aflSrmed. Thus Don Quixote took the barber for a knight, 
his ass for a dapple-gray steed, and his basin for a golden 
hehnet; for whatever he saw was quickly adapted to his 
knightly extravagances; and when the poor knight drew near, 
without staying to reason the case with him, he advanced at 
Rozinante’s best speed, and couched his lance intending to 
run him through and through; but when close upon him, 
without checking the fury of his career, he cried out, “Defend 
thyself, caitiff! or instantly surrender what is justly my due.” 

The barber, so unexpectedly seeing this phantom advanc- 
ing upon him, had no other way to avoid the thrust of the 
lance than to slip down from the ass; and no sooner had he 
touched the ground than, leaping up nimbler than a deer, he 
scampered over the plain with such speed that the wind could 
not overtake him. The basin he left on the ground; with 
which Don Quixote was satisfied, observing that the pagan 
had acted discreetly. He ordered Sancho to take up the 
helmet; who, holding it in his hand, said, “The basin is a 
[ 97 ] 


THE ADVENTURES OF DON QUIXOTE 


special one, and is well worth a piece of eight, if it is worth a 
farthing. ” He then gave it to his master, who immediately 
placed it upon his head, turning it round in search of the vizor; 
but not finding it, he said, ‘‘Doubtless the pagan for whom this 
famous helmet was originally forged must have had a prodi- 
gious head — the worst of it is that one-half is wanting. ” 
When Sancho heard the basin called a helmet he could not 
forbear laughing; which, however, he instantly checked on 
recollecting his master’s late anger. 

“What dost thou laugh at, Sancho.^” said Don Quixote. 
“I am laughing,” answered he, “to think what a huge head 
the pagan had who owned that helmet, which is for all the 
world just like a barber’s basin. ” 

“Knowest thou, Sancho, what I conceive to be the case? 
This famous piece, this enchanted helmet, by some strange 
accident must have fallen into the possession of one who, 
ignorant of its true value as a helmet, and seeing it to be of 
the purest gold, hath inconsiderately melted down the one-half 
for lucre’s sake, and of the other half made this, which, as thou 
sayest, doth indeed look like a barber’s basin; but to me who 
know what it really is, its transformation is of no importance, 
for I will have it so repaired in the first town where there is a 
smith that it shall not be surpassed nor even equalled by that 
which the god of smiths himself made and forged for the god of 
battles. In the meantime I will wear it as I best can, for 
something is better than nothing, and it will be sufficient to 
defend me from stones. ” 

“It will so,” said Sancho, “if they do not throw them with 
slings, as they did in the battle of the two armies. But, 

[ 98 ] 


THE ADVENTURES OF DON QUIXOTE 


setting this aside, tell me, sir, what shall we do with this 
dapple-gray steed which looks so much like a gray ass and 
which that caitiff whom your worship overthrew^ has left 
behind here to shift for itself? for by his scouring off so hastily 
he does not think of ever returning for him: and by my 
beard, the beast is a special one. ” 

"‘It is not my custom,” said Don Quixote, “to plunder 
those whom I overcome, nor is it the usage of chivalry to take 
from the vanquished their horses and leave them on foot 
unless the victor had lost his own in the conflict; in such a 
case it is lawful to take that of the enemy, as fairly won in 
battle. Therefore, Sancho, leave this horse, or ass, or what- 
ever thou wilt have it to be; for when we are gone his owner 
will return for him.” “Verily,” replied Sancho, “the laws 
of chivalry are very strict if thiey do not even allow the swap- 
ping of one ass for another; but I would fain know whether 
I might exchange furniture, if I were so inclined?” 

“I am not very clear as to that point,” answered Don 
Quixote; “and being a doubtful case, until better information 
can be had, I think thou mayest make the exchange, if thou 
art in extreme want of them. ” 

“So extreme,” replied Sancho, “that I could not want 
them more if they were for my own proper person.” Thus 
authorized, he proceeded to an exchange of caparisons, and 
made his own beast three parts in four the better for his new 
furniture. This done, they breakfasted on the remains of the 
plunder from the sumpter-mule and drank of the water belong- 
ing to the fulling-mills, but without turning their faces towards 
them — such was the abhorrence in which they were held 

[ 99 ] 


THE ADVENTURES OF DON QUIXOTE 


because of the effect they had produced. Being thus refreshed 
and comforted, both in body and mind, they mounted; and 
without determining upon what road to follow, according to 
the custom of knights-errant, they went on as Rozinante’s will 
directed, which was a guide to his master and also to Dapple, 
who always followed, in love and good-fellowship, wherever he 
led the way. They soon, however, turned into the great road, 
which they followed at a venture, without forming any plan. 


[1001 


CHAPTER XI 


HOW DON QUIXOTE SET AT LIBERTY SEVERAL 
UNFORTUNATE PERSONS 



S they were thus sauntering on, Don Quixote raised 


his eyes, and saw approaching in the same road 


about a dozen men on foot, strung like beads, by 


the necks, on a great iron chain, and all handcuffed. There 
came also with them two men on horseback and two on foot: 
those on horseback were armed with firelocks, and those on 
foot with pikes and swords. ^ 

As soon as Sancho Panza saw them he said, “This is a 
chain of galley-slaves, persons forced by the King to serve in 
the galleys.” 

“How! forced, do you say.^ ” quoth Don Quixote: “is it 
possible the King should force anybody.^” 

“I said not so,” answered Sancho; “but that they were per- 
sons who for their crimes are condemned by law to the galleys, 
where they are forced to serve the King. ” 

“In truth, then,” replied Don Quixote, “these people are 
conveyed by force, and not voluntarily.^” 

“So it is,” said Sancho. 

“Then,” said his master, “here the execution of my oflSce 
begins, which is to defeat violence and to succor and relieve 
the wretched.” 


[ 101 ] 


THE ADVENTURES OF DON QUIXOTE 


‘‘Consider, sir,” quoth Sancho, “that justice — which is 
the King himself — does no violence to such persons; he only 
punishes them for their crimes. ” 

By this time the chain of galley slaves had reached them, 
and Don Quixote, in most courteous terms, desired the guard 
to be pleased to inform him of the cause or causes for which 
they conducted those persons in that manner. One of the 
guards on horseback answered that they were slaves belonging 
to his majesty, and on their way to the galleys, which was all 
he had to say, nor was there anything more to know. 

“Nevertheless,” replied Don Quixote, “I should be glad 
to be informed by each of them individually of the cause of his 
misfortune.” To this he added such courteous expressions, 
entreating the information he desired, that the other horseman 
said, “Though we have here the record and certificate of each 
of these worthies, this is no time to produce and read them. 
Draw near, sir, and make your inquiry of themselves; they 
may inform you if they please, and no doubt they will, for 
they are such as take a pleasure in acting and relating 
rogueries. ” 

With this leave, which Don Quixote would have taken 
had it not been given, he went up to them and demanded of 
the first for what offence he marched in such evil plight. He 
answered that it was for being in love. 

“For that alone?” replied Don Quixote: “if people are 
sent to the galleys for being in love, I might long since have 
been rowing in them myself. ” 

“It was not such love as your worship imagines,” said the 
galley-slave. “Mine was a strong affection for a basket of 
[ 102 ] 


THE ADVENTURES OF DON QUIXOTE 


fine linen, which I embraced so closely that if justice had not 
taken it from me by force, I should not have parted with it by 
my own good-will even to this present day. I was taken in 
the act, so there was no opportunity for the torture. The 
trial was short; they accommodated my shoulders with a 
hundred lashes, and as a further kindness have sent me for 
three years to the galleys.” 

Don Quixote put the same question to the second, who 
returned no answer, he was so melancholy and dejected; but 
the first answered for him and said, “This gentleman goes for 
being a canary-bird — I mean for being a musician and a 
singer. ” 

“How so?” replied Don Quixote; “are men sent to the 
galleys for being musicians and singers?” 

“Yes, sir,” replied the slave, “for there is nothing worse 
than to sing in an agony.” 

“Nay,” said Don Quixote, “I have heard say, ‘Who sings 
in grief procures relief.’ ” 

“This is the very reverse,” said the slave; “for here, he 
who sings once weeps all his life after. ” 

“I do not understand that,” said Don Quixote. 

One of the guards said to him, “Signor cavalier, to sing in 
an agony means, in the talk of these rogues, to confess upon 
the rack. This offender was put to the torture, and con- 
fessed his crime, which was that of being a stealer of cattle; 
and because he confessed he is sentenced for six years to the 
galleys, besides two hundred lashes he has already received 
on the shoulders. He is always pensive and sad, because 
all the other rogues abuse, vilify, flout and despise him for con- 
[ 103 ] 


THE ADVENTURES OF DON QUIXOTE 


fesslng and not having the courage to say Nay; for, say they, 
Nay does not contain more letters than Aye; and think it 
lucky when it so happens that a man’s life or death depends 
upon his own tongue, and not upon proofs and witnesses; and 
for my part, I think they are in the right. ” 

“And so I think,” answered Don Quixote, who, passing on 
to the third, interrogated him as he had done the others. He 
answered very readily and with much indifference, “I am also 
going to the galleys for five years, merely for want of ten 
ducats. ” 

“I will give twenty, with all my heart,” said Don Quixote, 
“to redeem you from this misery.” 

“That,” said the convict, “is like having money at sea, 
where, though dying with hunger, nothing can be bought with 
it. I say this, because if I had been possessed in time of those 
twenty ducats which you now offer me, I would have so greased 
the clerk’s pen and sharpened my advocate’s wit that I would 
have been this day upon the market-place of Zocodover, in 
Toledo, and not upon this road. ” 

Behind all the rest came a man about thirty years of age, 
of a goodly aspect, only that his eyes looked at each other. 
He was bound somewhat differently from the others, for he had 
a chain to his leg, so long that it was fastened round his middle, 
and two collars about his neck, one of which was fastened 
to the chain, and the other, called a keep-friend, or friend’s- 
foot, had two straight irons which came down from it to his 
waist, at the ends of which were fixed two manacles, wherein 
his hands were secured with a huge padlock; insomuch that 
he could neither lift his hands to his mouth nor bend down his 
[ 104 ] 


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head to his hands. Don Quixote asked why this man was 
fettered so much more than the rest. The guard answered 
because he alone had committed more crimes than all the rest 
together; and that he was so bold and desperate a villain that 
although shackled in that manner they were not secure of him, 
but were still afraid he would make his escape. 

“What kind of villainies has he committed,” said Don 
Quixote, “that have deserved no greater punishment than 
being sent to the galleys?” 

“He goes for ten years, ” said the guard, “ which is a kind of 
civil death. You need only to be told that this honest gentle- 
man is the famous Gines de Passamonte. ” 

“Fair and softly. Signor Commissary,” interrupted the 
slave, “let us not now be spinning out names and surnames. 
Signor Cavalier,” continued he, “if you have anything to 
give us, let us have it now, and Heaven be with you, for you 
tire us with inquiring so much after other men’s lives. If you 
would know mine, I am Gines de Passamonte, whose life is 
written by these very fingers. ” 

“He says true,” said the commissary; “for he himself has 
written his own history as well as heart could wish.” “What 
is the title of your book?” demanded Don Quixote. 

“The ‘Life of Gines de Passamonte,’ ” replied Gines him- 
self. 

“And is it finished?” quoth Don Quixote. 

“How can it be finished?” answered he, “since my life is 
not yet finished? WTiat is written relates everything from my 
cradle to the moment of being sent this last time to the 
galleys. ” 


[ 105 ] 


THE ADVENTURES OF DON QUIXOTE 


“You seem to be an ingenious fellow,” said Don Quixote. 

“And an unfortunate one, too,” answered Gines; “but 
misfortunes always prosecute genius. ” 

Turning to the whole string, Don Quixote said, “From all 
you have told me, dearest brethren! I clearly gather that 
although it be only the punishment of your crimes, you do not 
much relish what you are to suffer, and that you go to it with 
ill-will, and much against your inclination. My mind prompts 
and even compels me to manifest in you the purpose for which 
Heaven cast me into the world, and ordained me to profess the 
order of chivalry, which I do profess, and the vow I thereby 
made to succor the needy and those oppressed by the powerful. 
Conscious, however, that it is the part of prudence not to do by 
force that which may be done by fair means, I will entreat these 
gentlemen, your guard and the commissary, that they will be 
pleased to loose and let you go in peace, since there are people 
enough to serve the king from better motives; for it seems to 
me a hard case to make slaves of those whom God and nature 
made free. Besides, gentlemen guards,” added Don Quixote, 
“these poor men have committed no offence against you, let 
every one answer for his sins in the other world; neither doth 
it become honorable men to be the executioners of others when 
they have no interest in the matter. I request this of you in a 
calm and gentle manner, that I may have cause to thank you 
for your compliance; but if you do it not willingly, this lance 
and this sword, with the vigor of my arm, shall compel you 
to it.” 

“This is pleasant fooling,” answered the commissary. 
“An admirable conceit he has hit upon at last! He would 
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THE ADVENTURES OF DON QUIXOTE 


have us let the king’s prisoners go — as if we had authority 
to set them free, or he to command us to do it ! Go on your way, 
signor, and adjust the basin on your noodle, and do not go 
feeling about for three legs to a cat. ” 

“You are a cat, and a rat, and a rascal to boot!” answered 
Don Quixote; and thereupon, with a word and a blow, he 
attacked him so suddenly that before he could stand upon his 
defence, he threw him to the ground, much wounded with a 
thrust of the lance; and it happened, luckily for Don Quixote, 
that this was one of the two who carried fire-locks. The rest 
of the guards were astonished and confounded at the un- 
expected encounter; but recovering themselves, he on horse- 
back drew his sword, and those on foot took their javelins, 
and advanced upon Don Quixote, who waited for them with 
much calmness; and doubtless it had gone ill with him if the 
galley-slaves had not seized the opportunity now offered to 
them of recovering their liberty by breaking the chain by 
which they were linked together. The confusion was such 
that the guards, now endeavoring to prevent the slaves from 
getting loose, and now engaging with Don Quixote, did 
nothing to any purpose. Sancho, for his part, assisted in 
releasing Gines de Passamonte, who was the first that leaped 
free and unfettered upon the plain; and attacking the fallen 
commissary, he took away his sword and his gun, which, by 
levelling first at one and then at another, without discharging 
it, he cleared the field of all the guard, who fled no less from 
Passamonte’s gun than from the shower of stones which the 
slaves, now at liberty, poured upon them. 

The slaves were in disorder but Don Quixote called them 
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THE ADVENTURES OF DON QUIXOTE 


together and they gathered around him to know his pleasure, 
when he thus addressed them: ‘‘To be grateful for benefits 
received is natural to persons well born. This I say, gentle- 
men, because you already know, by manifest experience, the 
benefit you have received at my hands; in return for which it 
is my desire that, bearing with you this chain which I have 
taken from your necks, you immediately go to the city of 
Toboso, and there present yourselves before the Lady Dulcinea 
del Toboso, and tell her that her Knight of the Sorrowful 
Figure sends you to present his service to her; and recount 
to her every circumstance of this memorable adventure, to 
the point of restoring you to your wished-f or liberty ; this done 
you may go wherever good fortune may lead you.” 

Gines de Passamonte answered for them all, and said, 
“What your worship commands us, noble sir, and our deliverer, 
is, of all impossibilities, the most impossible to be complied 
with; for we dare not be seen together on the road, but must go 
separate, each man by himself, and endeavor to hide ourselves. 
To tell us to go to Toboso is the same as to expect pears from 
an elm-tree. ” 

“I vow, then,” quoth Don Quixote in a rage, “Don Son 
of a Rogue, Don Ginesillo de Parapilla, or whatever you call 
yourself, that you alone shall go with your tail between your 
legs, and the whole chain upon your back!” 

Passamonte, who was not over-passive, seeing himself 
thus treated, and being aware that Don Quixote, from what he 
had just done, was not in his right senses, gave a signal to his 
comrades, upon which they all retired a few paces, and then 
began to rain such a shower of stones upon Don Quixote that 
[ 108 ] 


THE ADVENTURES OF DON QUIXOTE 

he could not contrive to cover himself with his buckler; and 
poor Rozinante cared no more for the spur than if he had been 
made of brass. Sancho got behind his ass, and thereby 
sheltered himself from the hail-storm that poured forth upon 
them both. Don Quixote could not screen himself sufficiently 
to avoid I know not how many stones that came against him 
with such force that they brought him to the ground; when 
one of the slaves instantly fell upon him, and taking the basin 
from off his head, gave him three or four blows with it over 
the shoulders, and then struck it as often against the ground, 
whereby he almost broke it to pieces. They stripped him of 
a jacket he wore over his armor, and would have taken more 
too, if the greaves had not hindered them. They took 
Sancho’s cloak, and after dividing the spoils of the battle 
they made the best of their way off, each taking a different 
course. 

The ass and Rozinante, Sancho and Don Quixote, remained 
by themselves; the ass hanging his head and pensivCj and now 
and then shaking his ears, thinking that the storm of stones 
was not yet over and still whizzing about his head; Rozinante 
having been brought to the ground, lay stretched by his 
master’s side; Sancho, stripped, and troubled with apprehen- 
sions; and Don Quixote much chagrined at being so maltreated 
by those on whom he had conferred so great a benefit. 


[ 109 ] 


CHAPTER XII 


OF WHAT BEFELL THE RENOWNED DON QUIXOTE 
IN THE MOUNTAINS 

D on QUIXOTE, finding himself thus ill-requited, 
said to his squire, “Sancho, I have always heard 
it said that to do good to the vulgar is to throw 
water into the sea. Had I believed what you said to me, I 
might have prevented this trouble: but it is done — I must 
have patience, and henceforth take warning. ” 

“Your worship will as much take warning,” answered 
Sancho, “as I am a Turk; but since you say that if you had 
believed me the mischief would have been prevented, believe 
me now and you will avoid what is still worse; for let me tell 
you there is no putting off the police with chivalries — they 
do not care two farthings for all the knights-errant in the world; 
and I fancy already that I hear their arrows whizzing about 
my ears.” 

“Thou art naturally a coward, Sancho,” said Don 
Quixote, “but that thou mayest not say that I am obstinate 
and that I never do what thou advisest, I will for once take thy 
counsel, and retire from that fury of which thou art so much in 
fear; but upon this one condition — that, neither living nor 
dying, thou shalt ever say that I retired and withdrew myself 
[ 110 ] 


THE ADVENTURES OF DON QUIXOTE 


from this peril out of fear, but that I did it out of mere com- 
pliance with thy entreaties. If thou sayest otherwise, it is a 
lie; and from this time to that, and from that time to this, I 
tell thee thou liest, and wilt lie, every time thou shalt either 
say or think it. Reply not, for the bare thought of withdraw- 
ing and retreating from any danger, and especially from this, 
which seems to carry some appearance of danger with it 
inclines me to remain here.” 

‘‘Sir,” answered Sancho, “retreating is not running away, 
nor is staying wisdom when the danger overbalances the hope; 
and it is the part of wise men to secure themselves today for 
tomorrow, and not to venture all upon one throw. And know 
that, although I am but a clown and a peasant, I yet have 
some smattering of what is called good conduct; therefore 
repent not of having taken my advice, but get upon Rozi- 
nante if you can, if not I will assist you, and follow me; for 
my noddle tells me that for the present we have more need of 
heels than hands.” 

Don Quixote mounted without replying a word more; and 
Sancho leading the way upon his ass, they entered on one side 
of the Brown Mountains, which were near; and it was Sancho’s 
intention to pass through them, and there hide themselves for 
some days among those craggy rocks. He was encouraged to 
this by finding that the provisions carried by his ass had 
escaped safe from the skirmish with the galley-slaves, which 
he looked upon as a miracle, considering what the slaves took 
away and how narrowly they searched. 

That night they got into the heart of the mountains, where 
Sancho thought it would be well to pass the remainder of the 
[ 111 ] 


THE ADVENTURES OF DON QUIXOTE 


night, if not some days, or at least as long as their provisions 
lasted. Accordingly, there they took up their lodging, under 
the shelter of rocks overgrown with trees. But destiny which 
guides and disposes all things its own way, so ordered it that 
Gines de Passamonte, the famous cheat and robber (whom 
the valor and frenzy of Don Quixote had delivered from the 
chain), took it into his head to hide himself among those very 
mountains, and in the very place where, by the same impulse 
Don Quixote and Sancho Panza had taken refuge; arriving 
just in time to distinguish who they were, although they had 
fallen asleep. Now, as the wicked are always ungrateful, 
and necessity urges desperate measures, and present con- 
venience overbalances every consideration of the future, 
Gines, who had neither gratitude nor good-nature, resolved to 
steal Sancho Panza’s ass — not caring for Rozinante, as a 
thing neither pawnable nor salable. Sancho Panza slept, 
the rascal stole his ass, and before dawn of day was too far off 
to be recovered. 

The sun issued forth, giving joy to the earth, but grief to 
Sancho Panza, who, when he missed his Dapple, began to 
utter the most doleful lamentations, insomuch that Don 
Quixote awakened at his cries, and heard him say: — “O my 
beloved Dapple, the joy of my children, the entertainment of 
my wife, the envy of my neighbors, the relief of my burdens, 
lastly, the half of my maintenance! — for with the money 
which I have earned every day by thy means have I half 
supported my family!’’ 

Don Quixote, on learning the cause of these lamentations, 
comforted Sancho in the best manner he could, and desired him 
[ 112 ] 


THE ADVENTURES OF DON QUIXOTE 

to have patience, promising to give him a bill of exchange for 
the three asses out of five which he had left at home. Sancho, 
comforted by this promise, wiped away his tears, moderated 
his sighs, and thanked his master for the kindness he showed 
him. 

Don Quixote’s heart gladdened upon entering among the 
mountains, being the kind of situation he thought likely to 
furnish those adventures he was in quest of. They recalled 
to his memory the marvellous events which had befallen 
knights-errant in such solitudes and deserts. He went on 
meditating on these things, and his mind was so absorbed in 
them that he thought of nothing else. Nor had Sancho any 
other concern, now that he thought himself out of danger, than 
to appease his hunger with what remained of the spoils; and 
thus, sitting sideways, upon his beast, he jogged after his 
master, appeasing his hunger while emptying the bag; and 
while so employed he would not have given two maravedis 
for the rarest adventure that could have happened. 

While thus engaged he raised his eyes, and observed that 
his master, who had stopped, was endeavoring with the point 
of his lance to raise something that lay upon the ground; upon 
which he hastened to assist him, if necessary, and came up to 
him just as he had turned over with his lance a saddle-cushion 
and a portmanteau fastened to it, half, or rather quite, rotten 
and torn, but so heavy that Sancho was forced to alight in 
order to take it up. His master ordered him to examine it. 
Sancho very readily obeyed, and although the portmanteau 
was secured with its chain and padlock, he could see through 
the chasms what it contained, which was four fine Holland 
[ 113 ] 


THE ADVENTURES OF DON QUIXOTE 


shirts and other linen, no less curious than clean; and in a 
handkerchief he found a quantity of gold crowns, which he no 
sooner espied than he exclaimed, ‘‘At last one profitable 
adventure!” Searching further, he found a little pocket-book, 
richly bound, which Don Quixote desired to have, bidding 
him take the money and keep it for himself. Sancho kissed 
his hands for the favor; and taking the linen out of the port- 
manteau, he put it in the provender-bag. All this was per- 
ceived by Don Quixote, who said, “I am of opinion, Sancho, 
that some traveller must have lost his way in these mountains 
and fallen into the hands of robbers, who have killed him and 
brought him to this remote part to bury him. ” 

“It cannot be so,” answered Sancho; “for had they been 
robbers, they would not have left this money here.” 

“Thou art in the right,” said Don Quixote, “and I cannot 
conjecture what it should be, but stay; let us see whether this 
pocket-book has anything written in it that may lead to a 
discovery. ” He opened it, and the first thing he found was a 
rough copy of verses to some fair Chloe, and being legible he 
read them aloud, that Sancho might hear them. 

“From these verses,” quoth Sancho, “nothing can be 
collected, unless from the clue there given you can come at 
the whole bottom. ” 

“What clue is here?” said Don Quixote. 

“I thought,” said Sancho, “your worship made a clue.” 

“No, I said CAZoe,” answered Don Quixote; “and doubt- 
less that is the name of the lady of whom the author of this 
poem complains; and, in faith, either he is a tolerable poet, 
or I know but little of the art. ” “Pray, sir, read on further,” 
[ 114 ] 


THE ADVENTURES OF DON QUIXOTE 

said Sancho; “perhaps you may find something to satisfy us. ” 
Don Quixote turned over the leaf and said, “This is in 
prose, and seems to be a letter. ” 

“A letter of business, sir.^” demanded Sancho. “By the 
beginning it seems rather to be one of love, ” answered Don 
Quixote. “Then pray, sir, read it aloud,” said Sancho, “for 
I mightily relish these love-matters.” 

The letter being read, Don Quixote said, “We can gather 
little more from this than from the verses. It is evident, how- 
ever, that the writer of them is some slighted lover.” Then 
turning over other parts of the book, he found other verses 
and letters, some of which were legible and some not; but the 
purport was the same in all — their sole contents being 
reproaches, lamentations, suspicions, desires, dislikings, favors, 
and slights, interspersed with rapturous praises and mournful 
complaints. While Don Quixote was examining the book 
Sancho examined the portmanteau, without leaving a corner 
either in that or in the saddle-cushion which he did not 
examine, scrutinize, and look into, nor seam which he did not 
rip, nor lock of wool which he did not carefully pick, that 
nothing might be lost from want of diligence or through care- 
lessness — such was the cupidity excited in him by the dis- 
covery of 'this golden treasure, consisting of more than a 
hundred crowns! 

The Knight of the Sorrowful Figure was extremely desirous 
to know who was the owner of the portmanteau; for he con- 
cluded, from the sonnet and the letter, by the money in gold, 
and by the fineness of the linen, that it must doubtless belong 
to some lover of condition, whom the disdain and ill-treat- 
[ 115 ] 


THE ADVENTURES OF DON QUIXOTE 


ment of his lady had reduced to despair; but as no information 
could be expected in that rugged and uninhabitable place, he 
had only to proceed forward, taking whatever road Rozinante 
pleased (who invariably gave preference to that which he 
found the most passable), and still thinking that among the 
rocks he should certainly meet with some strange adventure. 

As he went onwards impressed with this idea, he spied on 
the top of a rising ground not far from him, a man springing 
from rock to rock with extraordinary agility. He seemed to 
be almost naked, his beard black and bushy, his hair long and 
tangled, his legs and feet bare; he had on breeches of sad- 
colored velvet, but so ragged as scarcely to cover him; all 
which particulars, though he passed swiftly by, were observed 
by the knight. He endeavored, but in vain, to follow him, for 
it was not given to Rozinante’s feebleness to make way over 
those craggy places, especially as he was naturally slow-footed. 
Don Quixote immediately conceived that this must be the 
owner of the saddle-cushion and pormanteau, and resolved 
therefore to go in search of him, even though it should prove a 
twelvemonth’s labor in that wild region. He immediately 
commanded Sancho to cut short over one side of the mountain 
while he skirted the other, as they might possibly by this 
expedition find the man who had so suddenly vanished from 
their sight. 

‘T cannot do it,” answered Sancho, ‘‘for the moment I 
offer to stir from your worship fear is upon me, assaulting me 
with a thousand kind of terrors and apparitions; and let this 
serve to advertise you that henceforward I depart not a finger’s 
breadth from your presence. ” 

[ 116 ] 


THE ADVENTURES OF DON QUIXOTE 


“Be it so, ” said he of the Sorrowful Figure; “ and I am well 
pleased that thou shouldst rely upon my courage, which 
shall never fail thee, though the very soul in thy body should 
desert thee. Follow me, therefore, step by step, or as thou 
canst, and make lanterns of thine eyes; we will go round this 
craggy hill, and perhaps we may encounter the man we saw, 
who, doubtless, is the owner of what we have found. ” 

To which Sancho replied, “It would be much more prudent 
not to look after him; for if we should find him, and he, per- 
chance, prove to be the owner of the money, it is plain I must 
restore it; and therefore it would be better, without this 
unnecessary diligence, to preserve it faithfully until by some 
way less curious and officious its true owner shall be found; by 
which time, perhaps, I may have spent it, and then I am free 
by law. ’’ 

“Therein thou art mistaken, Sancho,” answered Don 
Quixote; “for since we have a vehement suspicion of who is 
the right owner, it is our duty to seek him and to return it; 
otherwise that suspicion makes us no less guilty than if he 
really were so. Do not then repine, friend Sancho, at this 
search, considering how much I shall be relieved by finding 
him.” 

Then he pricked Rozinante on, and Sancho followed; when 
having gone round part of the mountain, they found a dead 
mule lying in a brook, saddled and bridled, and half devoured 
by dogs and crows; which confirmed them in the opinion that 
he who fied from them was owner both of the mule and the 
bundle. 

While they stood looking at the mule they heard a whistle 

[ni] 


THE ADVENTURES OF DON QUIXOTE 


like that of a shepherd tending his flock, and presently, on their 
left appeared a number of goats, and behind them, higher up 
on the mountain, an old man, being the goatherd that kept 
them. Don Quixote called to him aloud, and beckoned him 
to come down to them. He as loudly answered, inquiring 
what had brought them to that desolate place, seldom or 
never trodden unless by the feet of goats, wolves, or other 
beasts that frequented those mountains. Sancho promised 
in reply, that if he would come down they would satisfy him 
in everything. The goatherd descended, and coming to the 
place where Don Quixote stood, he said, ‘‘I suppose, gentle- 
men, you are looking at the dead mule.^^ In truth it has now 
lain there these six months. Pray tell me, have you met with 
his master hereabouts?” 

‘‘We have met with nothing,” answered Don Quixote, 
“but a saddle-cushion and a small portmanteau, which we 
found not far from hence. ” 

“I found it, too,” answered the goatherd, “but would by 
no means take it up, nor come near it, for fear of some mischief, 
and of being charged with theft.” “So say I,” answered 
Sancho; “for I also found it, and would not go within a stone’s 
throw of it; there I left it, and there it may lie for all of me.” 

“Tell me, honest man,” said Don Quixote, “do you know 
who is the owner of these goods?” 

“What I know,” said the goatherd, “is that six months 
ago, more or less, there came to a shepherd’s hut, about three 
leagues from this place, a genteel and comely youth, mounted 
on the very mule which lies dead there, and with the same 
saddle-cushion and portmanteau that you say you found and 
[ 118 ] 


THE ADVENTURES OF DON QUIXOTE 

touched not. He inquired of us which part of these moun- 
tains was the most rude and unfrequented. We told him it 
was here where we now are; and so it is truly, for if you were 
to go on about half a league farther, perhaps you would never 
find the way out; and I wonder how you could get even 
hither, since there is no road nor path to lead you to it. The 
youth, then, I say, hearing our answer, turned about his miile 
and made towards the part we pointed out, leaving us all 
pleased with his goodly appearance and wondering at his ques- 
tion and the haste he made to reach the mountain. From 
that time we saw him not again until some days after, when he 
issued out upon one of our shepherds, and without saying a 
word, struck him and immediately plundered our bread 
and cheese, and then fled again to the rocks with wonderful 
swiftness. Some of us goatherds after this sought for him 
nearly two days through the most intricate part of these 
mountains, and at last found him lying in the hollow of a large 
tree. He came out to us with much gentleness, his garments 
torn, and his face so disfigured and scorched by the sun that 
we should scarcely have known him, but that his clothes, 
ragged as they were, convinced us he was the person we were 
in search after. He saluted us courteously, and in few but 
civil words bade us not to be surprised to see him in that con- 
dition, which was necessary in order to perform a certain 
penance. We entreated him to tell us who he was, but could 
get no more from him. We also desired him to inform us 
where he might be found, because when he stood in need of 
food, without which he could not subsist, we would willingly 
bring some to him; and if this did not please him, we begged 

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THE ADVENTURES OF DON QUIXOTE 


that at least he would come and ask for it, and not take it 
away from the shepherds by force. He thanked us for our 
oflFers, begged pardon for his past violence, and promised 
thenceforth to ask for it without molesting anybody. As to 
the place of his abode, he said he had no other than that which 
chance presented him wherever the night overtook him; and 
he ended his discourse with so many tears that we who heard 
him must have been very stones not to have wept with him 
considering what he was when we first saw him, and what he 
now appeared; for, as I before said, he was a very comely and 
graceful youth, and by his courteous behavior showed himself 
to be well born; which was very evident even to country 
people like us. Suddenly he was silent, and fixing his eyes 
on the ground, he remained in that posture for a long time, 
whilst we stood still in suspense, waiting to see what would 
be the end of his trance; for by his motionless position and the 
furious look of his eyes, frowning and biting his lips, we judged 
that his mad fit was coming on; and indeed our suspicions were 
quickly confirmed, for he suddenly darted forward and fell 
with great fmy upon one that stood next him, whom he bit 
and struck with so much violence that, if we had not released 
him, he would have taken away his life. 

‘Tn the midst of his rage he frequently called out, ‘Ah 
traitor, Fernando! now shalt thou pay for the wrong thou hast 
done me; these hands shall tear out that heart, the dark 
dwelling of deceit and villainy!’ and to these he added other 
expressions, all pointed at the same Fernando, and charging 
him with falsehood and treachery. We disengaged our com- 
panion from him at last, with no small difficulty; upon which 
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THE ADVENTURES OF DON QUIXOTE 


he suddenly left us and plunged into a thicket so entangled with 
bushes and briars that it was impossible to follow him. By 
this we guessed that his madness returned by fits, and that 
some person whose name is Fernando must have done him 
some injury of so grievous a nature as to reduce him to the 
wretched condition in which he appeared. And in that we 
have since been confirmed, as he has frequently come out into 
the road, sometimes begging food of the shepherds and at other 
times taking it from them by force; for when the mad fit is 
upon him, though the shepherds offer it freely, he will not take 
it without coming to blows; but when he is in his senses, he 
asks it with courtesy and receives it with thanks, and even with 
tears. In truth, gentlemen, I must tell you,” continued the 
goatherd, “that yesterday I and four young men, two of them 
my servants and two my friends, resolved to go in search of 
him, and having found him, either by persuasion or force carry 
him to the town to get him cured, if his distemper be curable; 
or at least to learn who he is, and whether he has any relations 
to whom we may give notice of his misfortune. This, gentle- 
men, is all I can tell you in answer to your inquiry ; by which 
you may understand that the owner of the goods you found 
is the same wretched person who passed you so quickly ” 
for Don Quixote had told him that he had seen a man leaping 
about the rocks. 

Don Quixote was surprised at what he heard from the goat- 
herd; and being now still more desirous of knowing who the 
unfortunate madman was, he renewed his determination to 
search every part of the mountain, leaving neither corner nor 
imexplored until he should find him. But fortune 
[Ul] 


cave 


THE ADVENTURES OF DON QUIXOTE 


managed better for him than he expected; for at that very 
instant the same youth appeared descending towards them, 
and muttering to himself something which was not intelligible. 
When the young man came up to them he saluted them in a 
harsh voice, but with a civil air. Don Quixote politely 
returned the salute, and alighting from Rozinante with 
graceful demeanor and address advanced to embrace him, and 
held him a considerable time clasped within his arms, as if 
they had been long acquainted. The other, whom we may 
truly call the tattered knight of the woeful, as Don Quixote 
was of the sorrowful, figure, having suffered himself to be 
embraced, drew back a little, and laying his hands on Don 
Quixote’s shoulders, stood contemplating him, as if to ascer- 
tain whether he knew him; and perhaps no less surprised at 
the aspect, demeanor and habiliments of the knight than was 
Don Quixote at the sight o/ him. 


[m] 


CHAPTER XIIJ 


THE STORY OF CARDENIO 

T he first who broke the silence after this prelude 
was the ragged knight who thus addressed him- 
self to Don Quixote: “Assuredly, signor, whoever you 
are, for I do not know you, I am obliged to you for the 
courtesy you have manifested towards me; and I wish it were 
in my power to serve you with more than my good-will, which 
is all that my fate allows me to offer in return for your 
civility. ” 

“So great is my desire to do you service,” answered Don 
Quixote, “that I had determined not to quit these mountains 
until I found you and learned from yourself whether your 
aflSiction, which is evident by the strange life you lead, may 
admit of any remedy, and if so, make every possible exertion 
to procure it; and should your misfortune be of such a kind 
that every avenue to consolation is closed, I intend to join in 
your moans and lamentations — for sympathy is ever an 
alleviation to misery; and if you should think my intention 
merits any acknowledgment, I beseech you, sir, by the 
infinite courtesy I see you possess — I conjure you also by 
whatever in this life you have loved, or do love most — to tell 
who you are, and what has brought you hither, to live and 
die like a brute beast amidst these solitudes; an abode, if I 
[ 123 ] ■ 


THE ADVENTURES OF DON QUIXOTE 

may judge from your person and attire, so unsuitable to you. 
And I swear,” added Don Quixote, ‘‘by the order of knight- 
hood I have received, and by the profession of a knight-errant, 
if you gratify me in this, to serve you with all the energy which 
it is my duty to exert, either in remedying your misfortune, if 
it admit of remedy, or in assisting you to bewail it, as I have 
already promised.” 

The knight of the mountain, hearing him of the Sorrowful 
Figure talk thus, could only gaze upon him, viewing him from 
head to foot; and after surveying him again and again, he 
said to him, “If you have anything to give me to eat, let me 
have it; and when I have eaten I will do all you desire, in 
return for the good wishes you have expressed towards me.” 

Sancho immediately took from his wallet, and the goatherd 
from his scrip, some provisions, wherewith the wretched wan- 
derer satisfied his hunger, eating what they gave him like a dis- 
tracted person, so ravenously that he made no interval between 
one mouthful and another, for he rather devoured than ate; 
and during his repast neither he nor the bystanders spoke a 
word. When he had finished he made signs to them to follow 
him, which they did; and having conducted them a short 
distance to a little green plot, he there laid himseh down and 
the rest did the same. 

When the tattered knight had composed himself he said: 
“If you desire, gentlemen, that I should tell you, in few words, 
the immensity of my misfortune, you must promise not to 
interrupt, by questions or otherwise, the thread of my doleful 
history; for in the instant you do so my narrative will break 
off.” Don Quixote, in the name of all the rest, promised not 
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THE ADVENTURES OF DON QUIXOTE 


to interrupt him, and upon this assurance he began in the 
following manner: 

‘‘My name is Cardenio; the place of my birth, one of the 
best cities of Andalusia; my family noble; my parents wealthy; 
my wretchedness so great that it must have been deplored by 
my parents and felt by my relations, although not to be allevi- 
ated by all their wealth; for riches are of little avail in many 
of the calamities to which mankind are liable. In that city 
there existed Lucinda, a damsel as well born and rich as myself, 
though more fortunate, and less constant than my honorable 
intentions deserved. This Lucinda I loved and adored from 
my childhood; and she on her part loved me with that inno- 
cent affection proper to her age. Our parents were not un- 
acquainted with our attachment, nor was it displeasing to 
them. How many love notes did I write to her! What 
charming, what modest answers did I receive! How many 
sonnets did I pen! How many love- verses indite, in which 
my soul unfolded all. At length my patience being exhausted, 
I resolved to demand her of her father for my lawful wife, 
which I immediately did. In reply, he thanked me for the 
desire I expressed to honor him by an alliance with his family; 
but that as my father was living, it belonged more properly 
to him to make this demand; for without his entire concurrence 
the act would appear secret, and unworthy of his Lucinda. 
I returned him thanks for the kindness of his reception; his 
scruples I thought were reasonable, and I made sure of my 
father’s ready acquiescence. I went, therefore, directly to 
him, and upon entering his apartment found him with a letter 
open in his hand, which he gave me before I spoke a word 
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THE ADVENTURES OF DON QUIXOTE 


saying, ‘By this letter you will see, Cardenio, the inclination 
Duke Ricardo has to do you service/ I read the letter, which 
was so extremely kind that I thought even myself it would 
be wrong in my father not to comply with its request, which 
was that I should be sent immediately to the duke, who was 
desirous of placing me, not as a man-servant, but as a com- 
panion, to his eldest son ; which honor should be accompanied 
by such preferment as should correspond with the estimation 
in which he held me. I was, nevertheless, much perplexed 
by the letter, and quite confounded when I heard my father 
say, ‘Two days hence, Cardenio, you shall depart, in com- 
pliance with the duke’s desire; and give thanks for opening 
you a way to that fortune I know you deserve’; to which he 
added other paternal admonitions. 

“The time fixed for my departure came. I conversed the 
night before with my Lucinda, and told her all that had passed, 
and also entreated her father to wait a few days, and not to 
dispose of her until I knew what Duke Ricardo’s pleasure was 
with me. He promised me all I desired, and she confirmed it 
with a thousand vows, and a thousand faintings. I arrived, 
in short, at the residence of Duke Ricardo, who received and 
treated me with so much kindness that envy soon became 
active, by possessing his old servants with an opinion that 
every favor the duke conferred upon me was prejudicial to 
their interests. But the person most pleased at my arrival 
Ts/'as a second son of the duke, called Fernando, a sprightly 
young gentleman, of a most gallant, liberal and lovable dis- 
position, who in a very short time contracted so intimate a 
friendship with me that it became the subject of general con- 
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THE ADVENTURES OF DON QUIXOTE 


versation; and though I was treated with much favor by his 
elder brother, it was not equal to the kindness and affection 
of Don Fernando. 

‘‘Now, as unbounded confidence is always the effect of 
such intimacy, and my friendship for Don Fernando being 
most sincere, he revealed to me all his thoughts, and par- 
ticularly a love affair which gave him some disquiet. He 
told me that he knew no better remedy for effacing the remem- 
brance of the beauty that had so captivated him than to 
absent himself for some months; this, he said, might be 
effected by our going together to my father’s house, under 
pretence, as he would tell the duke, of purchasing horses in 
our town, which is remarkable for producing the best in the 
world. 

“No sooner had he made this proposal than, prompted 
by my own love, I expressed my approbation of it as the best 
that possibly could be devised; and should have done so even 
had it been less plausible, since it afforded me so good an 
opportimity of returning to see my dear Lucinda. Thus 
influenced, I seconded his design, and desired him to put it in 
execution without delay. The duke consented to this proposal 
and ordered me to bear him company. We reached our city, 
and my father received him according to his quality. I 
immediately visited Lucinda; and unfortunately for me, I 
revealed my love to Don Fernando; thinking that, by the 
laws of friendship, nothing should be concealed from him. I 
expatiated so much on the beauty, grace, and discretion of 
Lucinda that my praises excited in him a desire of seeing a 
damsel endowed with such accomplishments. Unhappily 

[ m ] 


THE ADVENTURES OF DON QUIXOTE 


I consented to gratify him, and showed her to him one night by 
the light of a taper at a window where we were accustomed to 
converse together. He was struck dumb^ he lost all sense, he 
was entranced. I confess, that although I knew what just 
cause Don Fernando had to admire Lucinda, I was grieved 
to hear commendations from his mouth. From that time I 
began to fear and suspect him; for he was every moment 
talking of Lucinda, and would begin the subject himself, how- 
ever abruptly, which awakened in me I know not what jeal- 
ousy; and though I feared no change in Lucinda, yet I could 
not but dread the future. 

‘‘Now, it happened that Lucinda, having desired me to lend 
her a book of chivalry, of which she was very fond, entitled 
‘Amadis de Gaul’ — ” 

Scarcely had Don Quixote heard him mention a book of 
chivalry than he said, “Had you told me, sir, at the beginning 
of your history that the Lady Lucinda was fond of reading 
books of chivalry, no more would have been necessary to 
convince me of the sublimity of her understanding; for it 
could never have been so excellent as you have described it 
had she wanted a relish for such savory reading; so that, with 
respect to me, it is needless to waste more words in displaying 
her beauty, worth, and understanding, since from only know- 
ing her taste, I pronounce her to be the most beautiful and the 
most ingenious woman in the world. Pardon me, sir, for 
having broken my promise by this interruption; but when I 
hear of matters appertaining to knights-errant and chivalry, 

I can as well forbear talking of them as the beams of the sun 
can cease to give heat, or those of the moon to moisten. Pray, 

[ 128 ] 


THE ADVENTURES OF DON QUIXOTE 

therefore, excuse me, and proceed; for that is of most impor- 
tance to us at present. ’’ 

While Don Quixote was saying all this, Cardenio hung 
down his head upon his breast, apparently in profound thought; 
and although Don Quixote twice desired him to continue his 
story, he neither lifted up his head nor answered a word. But 
after some time he raised it and said, ‘‘I cannot get it out of 
my mind, nor can any one persuade me, that Queen Mada- 
sima was a wicked woman. ’’ 

^‘It is false, I swear!” answered Don Quixote in great 
wrath; ^‘it is extreme malice, or rather villainy, to say so. 
Queen Madasima was a very noble lady, and whoever asserts 
that she was not lies like a very rascal; and I will make him 
know it, on foot or on horseback, armed or unarmed, by night 
or by day, or how he pleases. ” 

Cardenio sat looking at him very attentively, and the mad 
fit being now upon him, he was in no condition to prosecute his 
story, neither would Don Quixote have heard him, so much 
was he irritated by what he had heard of Madasima. 

Cardenio, being now mad, and hearing himself called liar, 
villain, with other opprobrious names, did not like the jest; 
and catching at a stone that lay close by him, he threw it with 
such violence at Don Quixote’s breast that it threw him on 
his back. Sancho Panza, seeing his master treated in this 
manner, attacked the madman with his clenched fist; and the 
ragged knight received him in such sort that with one blow he 
laid him at his feet and then trampled him to his heart’s 
content. The goatherd, who endeavored to defend him, 
fared little better, and when the madman had sufficiently 
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THE ADVENTURES OF DON QUIXOTE 


vented his fury upon them all he left them, and quietly retired 
to his rocky haunts among the mountains. Sancho got up 
in a rage to find himself so roughly handled, and so unde- 
servedly, and was proceeding to take revenge on the goatherd, 
telling him the fault was his for not having given them warning 
that this man was subject to these mad fits; for had they 
known it they might have been upon their guard. 

The goatherd answered that he had given them notice of 
it, and that if they had not attended to it the fault was not his. 
Sancho Panza replied, the goatherd rejoined; and the replies 
and rejoinders ended in taking each other by the beard, and 
coming to such blows that if Don Quixote had not interposed 
they would have demolished each other. But Sancho still 
kept fast hold of the goatherd, and said, ‘‘Let me alone, Sir 
Knight of the Sorrowful Figure, for this fellow being a bumpkin 
like myself, and not a knight, I may very safely revenge myself 
by fighting with him hand to hand, like a man of honor. ” 

“True,” said Don Quixote, “but I know that he is not to 
blame for what has happened. ” Hereupon they were pacified ; 
and Don Quixote again inquired of the goatherd whether it 
were possible to find out Cardenio; for he had a vehement 
desire to learn the end of his story. The goatherd told him, 
as before, that he did not exactly know his haunts, but that 
if he waited some time about that part he would not fail to 
meet him, either in or out of his senses. 


[ 130 ] 


CHAPTER XIV 


THE STRANGE THINGS THAT BEFELL THE 
VALIANT KNIGHT OF LA MANCHA 
IN THE MOUNTAINS 

D on QUIXOTE took his leave of the goatherd, 
and mounting Rozinante, commanded Sancho to 
follow him; which he did very unwillingly. They 
proceeded slowly on, making their way in the most diffi- 
cult recesses of the mountain. In the meantime, Sancho 
was dying to converse with his master, but would fain have 
had him begin the discourse, that he might not disobey his 
orders. Being, however, unable to hold out any longer, he 
said to him: “Signor Don Quixote, be pleased to give me your 
worship’s blessing and my dismission; for I will get home to 
my wife and children, with whom I shall at least have the 
privilege of talking and speaking my mind; for to desire me 
to bear yom* worship company through these solitudes night 
and day, without suffering me to talk when I want, is to bury 
me alive. It is very hard, and not to be borne with patience, 
for a man to ramble about all his life in quest of adventures, 
and to meet with nothing but kicks and cuffs, tossings in a 
blanket, and bangs with stones, and with all this to have his 
mouth sewed up, not daring to utter what he has in his heart, 
as if he were dumb.” 


[ 131 ] 


THE ADVENTURES OF DON QUIXOTE 


'‘1 understand thee, Sancho,” answered Don Quixote; 
‘‘thou art impatient until I take off the embargo I have laid 
on thy tongue. Suppose it then removed, and thou art per- 
mitted to say what thou wilt, upon condition that this revoca- 
tion is to last no longer than whilst we are wandering amongst 
these mountains.” 

“Be it so,” said Sancho; “let me talk now, for no one 
knows what will be hereafter. And now, taking the benefit 
of this license, I ask what had your worship to do with standing 
up so warmly for that same Queen Magimasa, or what’s her 
name.f^ for had you let that pass, as you were not his judge, 
I verily believe the madman would have gone on with his story, 
and you would have escaped the thump with the stone, the 
kicks, and above half a dozen buffets.” 

“In faith, Sancho,” answered Don Quixote, “if thou didst 
but know, as I do, how honorable and excellent a lady Queen 
Madasima was, I am certain thou wouldst acknowledge that 
I had a great deal of patience in forbearing to dash to pieces 
that mouth out of which such sayings issued. Cardenio 
knew not what he spoke, thou mayest remember that when he 
said it he was not in his senses. ” 

“That is what I say,” quoth Sancho; “and therefore no 
accoimt should have been made of his words; for if good for- 
tune had not befriended your worship and directed the flint 
stone at your breast instead of your head, we had been in a fine 
condition for standing up in defence of that dear lady, and 
Cardenio would have come off impunished, being insane. ” 
“Against the sane and insane,” answered Don Quixote, 
“it is the duty of a knight-errant to defend women, particu- 
[ 132 ] 


THE ADVENTURES OF DON QUIXOTE 

larly a queen of such exalted worth as Queen Madasima.” 

‘‘Sir,” said Sancho, ‘‘is it a good rule of chivalry for us to 
go wandering through these mountains, without either path or 
road, in quest of a madman who, perhaps, when he is found 
will be inclined to finish what he began — not his story, but the 
breaking of your worship’s head and my ribs?” 

“Peace, Sancho, I repeat,” said Don Quixote; “for know 
that it is not only the desire of finding the madman that brings 
me to these parts, but an intention to perform in them an 
exploit whereby I shall acquire perpetual fame and renown 
over the face of the whole earth; and it shall be such a one as 
shall set the seal to make an accomplished knight-errant.” 

“And is this exploit a very dangerous one?” quoth Sancho. 

“No,” answered the knight; “although the die may 
chance to run unfortunately for us, yet the whole will depend 
upon thy diligence. ” 

“Upon my diligence!” exclaimed Sancho. 

“Yes,” said Don Quixote; “for if thy return be speedy from 
the place whither I intend to send thee, my pain will soon 
be over, and my glory forthwith commence; and that thou 
may^st no longer be in suspense with regard to the tendency 
of my words, I inform thee, Sancho, that the famous Amadis 
de Gaul was one of the most perfect of knights-errant. He 
was the morning star, and the sun of all valiant and enamoured 
knights, and whom all we who militate under the banners of 
love and chivalry ought to follow. This being the case, friend 
Sancho, that knight-errant who best imitates him will be most 
certain of arriving at pre-eminence in chivaky. And an 
occasion upon which the knight particularly displayed his 
[ 133 ] 


THE ADVENTURES OF DON QUIXOTE 


prudence, worth, courage, patience, constancy and love, was 
his retiring, when disdained by the Lady Oriana, to do penance 
on the sterile rock, changing his name to that of Beltenebros. 
Now, it is easier for me to imitate him in this than in cleaving 
giants, beheading serpents, slaying dragons, routing armies, 
shattering fleets, and dissolving enchantments; and since this 
place is so well adapted for the purpose, I ought not to neglect 
the opportunity which is now so commodiously offered to me. ” 

‘^What is it your worship really intends to do in so remote 
a place as this?” demanded Sancho. 

“Have I not told thee,” answered Don Quixote, “that I 
design to imitate Amadis, acting here the desperate, raving 
and furious lover?” “It seems to me,” quoth Sancho, “that 
the knights who acted in such manner were provoked to it, and 
had a reason for these follies and penances; but pray, what 
cause has your worship to run mad? What lady has disdained 
you? or what tokens have you discovered to convince you 
that the Lady Dulcinea del Toboso has committed folly?” 

“There lies the point,” answered Don Quixote, “and in 
this consists the refinement of my plan. A knight-errant who 
runs mad with just cause deserves no thanks; but to do so 
without reason is the point. Therefore, friend Sancho, counsel 
me not to refrain from so rare, so happy, and so unparalleled 
an imitation. Mad I am, and mad I must be until thy return 
with an answer to a letter I intend to send by thee to my lady 
Dulcinea; and if it proves such as I deserve, my madness and 
my penance will terminate. But if the contrary, I shall be 
mad indeed; and being so, shall become insensible to every- 
thing; so that whatever answer she returns, I shall be relieved 
[ 134 ] 


THE ADVENTURES OF DON QUIXOTE 


of the conflict and pain wherein thou leavest me; for if good, 
I shall enjoy it in my right senses; if otherwise, I shall be mad, 
and consequently insensible of my misfortune. 

“But tell me, Sancho, hast thou taken care of Mambrino’s 
helmet.^ for I saw thee take it from the ground when that 
ungrateful wretch proved the excellence of its quality by 
vainly endeavoring to break it to pieces. ” 

To which Sancho answered, “ Sir Knight of the Sorrowful 
Figure, I cannot bear with patience some things your worship 
says: they are enough to make me think that all you tell me 
of chivalry, and of winning kingdoms and empires, of bestow- 
ing islands, and doing other favors and mighty things, accord- 
ing to the custom of knights-errant, must be matter of mere 
smoke, and all fiction. For to hear you say that a barber’s 
basin is Mambrino’s helmet, and to persist in that error for 
near about four days, what can one think, but that he who 
says and aflGirms such a thing must be crack-brained.^ I have 
the basin in my wallet, all battered; and I shall take it home to 
get it mended for the use of my beard. ” 

“Now I swear, ’’said Don Quixote, “that thou hast the 
shallowest brain that any squire has, or ever had in the world. 
Is it possible that notwithstanding all the time thou hast 
travelled with me, thou dost not perceive that all affairs in 
which knights-errant are concerned appear chimeras, follies 
and extravagances, and seem all done by the rule of contraries? 
Not that they are in reality so, but because there is a crew of 
enchanters always about us, who metamorphose and disguise 
all our concerns, and turn them according to their own pleasure, 
or according as they are inclined to favor or ruin us. Hence 
[ 135 ] 


THE ADVENTURES OF DON QUIXOTE 


it is that the thing which to thee appears a barber’s basin, 
appears to me the hehnet of Mambrino, and to another will 
appear something else; and it was a singular foresight of the 
sage, my friend, to make that appear to others a basin which 
really and truly is Mambrino’s helmet; because, being of 
such high value, all the world would persecute me in order to 
obtain it; and now, thinking it nothing but a barber’s basin, 
they give themselves no trouble about it, as was evident to him 
who, after endeavoring to break it, cast it from him; which, in 
faith, he would never have done had he known what it was. 
Take care of it, friend.” 

While they were thus discoursing they arrived at the foot of 
a high mountain, which stood separated from several others 
that surrounded it, as if it had been hewn out from them. 
Near its base ran a gentle stream, that watered a verdant and 
luxuriant vale, adorned with many wide-spreading trees, 
plants, and wild flowers of various hues. This was the spot in 
which the Knight of the Sorrowful Figure chose to perform his 
penance; and while contemplating the scene he thus broke 
forth in a loud voice: “This is the place which I select and 
appoint for bewailing the misfortune in which I am involved. 
This is the spot where my flowing tears shall increase the 
waters of this crystal stream, and my sighs, continual and deep, 
shall incessantly move the foliage of these lofty trees, in testi- 
mony and token of the pain my persecuted heart endures. 
O my Dulcinea del Toboso, light of my darkness, glory of my 
pain, the north-star of my travels, and overruling planet of 
my fortunes! consider, I beseech thee, to what a condition 
thy absence hath reduced me, and reward me as my fidelity 
[ 136 ] 


THE ADVENTURES OF DON QUIXOTE 


deserves!” Thus saying, he alighted from Rozinante, and 
in an instant took off his bridle and saddle, and clapping him 
on the hinder parts, said to him, “O steed, as excellent for thy 
performance as unfortunate in thy fate! he gives thee liberty 
who is himself deprived of it. Go whither thou wilt. ” 

Sancho, observing all this, said, ‘‘If Dapple were here, I 
would not consent to his being unpannelled, there being no 
occasion for it, for he had nothing to do with love or despair 
any more than I, who was once his master. And truly, Sir 
Knight of the Sorrowful Figure, if it be so that my departure 
and your madness take place in earnest, it will be well to 
saddle Rozinante again, that he may supply the loss of my 
Dapple, and save me time in going and coming; for if I walk, 
I know not how I shall be able either to go or return, being 
in truth but a sorry traveller on foot. ” 

“Be that as thou wilt,” answered Don Quixote, “for I do 
not disapprove thy proposal; and I say thou shalt depart 
within three days, during which time I intend thee to bear 
witness of what I do for her sake that thou mayest report 
it accordingly.” 

“What have I more to see,” quoth Sancho, “than what I 
have already seen.^” 

“So far thou art well prepared,” answered Don Quixote; 
“but I have now to rend my garments, scatter my arms about 
and dash my head against these rocks; with other things of 
the like sort, which will strike thee with admiration. ” 

“For goodness’ sake,” said Sancho, “beware how you give 
yourself those blows, for you may chance to touch upon some 
unlucky point of rock that may at once put an end to this new 
[ 137 ] 


THE ADVENTURES OF DON QUIXOTE 


project of penance. I should think, since your worship is of 
opinion that knocks of the head are necessary, and that this work 
cannot be done without them, you might content yourself with 
running your head against water, or some soft thing, such as 
cotton; and leave it to me to tell my lady that you dashed 
your head against the point of a rock harder than a diamond. ” 
‘‘I thank thee for thy good intentions, friend Sancho, ” 
answered Don Quixote; ‘‘but I would have thee to know that 
all these actions of mine are no mockery, but done very much 
in earnest; for to act otherwise would be an infraction of the 
rules of chivalry, which enjoin us to utter no falsehood, on 
pain of being punished; and the doing one thing for another 
is the same as lying: therefore, blows must be real and sub- 
stantial, without artifice or evasion. However, it will be 
necessary to leave me some lint for my wounds. ” 

“With the ass,” answered Sancho; “we lost lint and 
everything else. As for the three days allowed me for seeing 
your mad pranks, I beseech you to reckon them as already 
passed, for I take all for granted, and will tell wonders to my 
lady. Do you write the letter and dispatch me quickly, for 
I long to come back and release your worship. Let me but 
once get to Toboso, and into the presence of my lady Dulcinea, 
and I will tell her such a story of the foolish, mad things which 
yoim worship has done and is still doing, that I shall bring her 
to be as supple as a glove, though I find her harder than a tree; 
and with her answer, all sweetness and honey, will I return 
through the air, like a witch.” 

“But how shall we contrive to write the letter asked 
the Knight of the Sorrowful Figure. “Since we have no 
[138] 


THE ADVENTURES OF DON QUIXOTE 

paper, we shall do well to write it as the ancients did, on the 
leaves of trees, or on tablets of wax; though it will be as 
difficult at present to meet with these as with paper. But 
now I recollect, it may be as well, or indeed better, to write it 
in Cardenio’s pocketbook, and you will take care to get it 
fairly transcribed upon paper in the first town you reach where 
there is a schoolmaster; or, if there be none, any clerk will 
transcribe it for you. ” 

‘‘But what must we do about the signing it with your own 
hand.^” said Sancho. 

“The letters of Am.adis were never subscribed,” answered 
Don Quixote. 

“Very well,” replied Sancho, “but the order for the colts 
must needs be signed by yourself for if that be copied they 
will say it is a false signature, and I shall be forced to go with- 
out the colts.” 

“The order shall be signed in the same pocketbook, and 
at sight of it my niece will make no difficulty in complying with 
it. As to the love-letter, let it be subscribed thus: ‘Yours until 
death, the Knight of the Sorrowful Figure.’ And it is of little 
importance whether it be written in another hand; for I 
remember Dulcinea can neither write nor read, nor has she 
ever seen a letter or writing of mine in her whole life; for during 
the twelve years that I have loved her more than the light of 
those eyes which the earth must one day consume, I have not 
seen her four times; and perhaps of these four times she may 
not have once perceived that I looked upon her — such is the 
reserve and seclusion in which she is brought up by her father, 
Lorenzo Corchuelo, and her mother, Aldonza Nogales!” 

[ 139 ] 


THE ADVENTURES OF DON QUIXOTE 

‘‘Heyday!” exclaimed Sancho, “what! the daughter of 
Lorenzo Corchuelo! Is she the Lady Dulcinea del Toboso, 
otherwise called Aldonza Lorenzo?” 

“It is even she,” said Don Quixote, “and she deserves to 
be mistress of the universe. ” 

“I know her well,” quoth Sancho; “and I can assure you 
she will pitch the bar with the lustiest lad in the parish. Why, 
she is a lass of mettle, tall, straight, and vigorous, and I war- 
rant can make her part good with any knight-errant. Oh, the 
jade! what a pair of lungs and a voice she has! I confess to 
your worship. Signor Don Quixote, that hitherto I have been 
hugely mistaken, for I thought for certain that the Lady 
Dulcinea was some great princess with whom you were in 
love, or at least some person of such great quality as to deserve 
the rich presents you have sent her, as well of the Biscainer 
as of the galley-slaves; and many others from the victories 
your worship must have gained before I came to be your 
squire. But all things considered, what good can it do the 
Lady Aldonza Lorenzo — I mean the Lady Dulcinea del 
Toboso — to have the vanquished whom your worship sends, 
or may send, falling upon their knees before her? For perhaps 
at the time they arrive she may be carding flax, or threshing 
in the barn, and they may be confounded at the sight of her, 
and she may laugh and care little for the present.” 

“I have often told thee, Sancho,” said Don Quixote, 
“ that thou art an eternal babbler, and though void of wit, thy 
bluntness often stings. ” 

Don Quixote took out the pocketbook, and stepping 
aside, began with much composure to write the letter; and 
[ 140 ] 


THE ADVENTURES OF DON QUIXOTE 

having finished, he called Sancho, and said he would read it 
to him, that he might have it by heart, lest he might perchance 
lose it by the way, for everything was to be feared from his 
evil destiny. 

To which Sancho answered, ‘‘Write it, sir, two* or three 
times in the book and give it to me, and I will take good care 
of it; but to suppose that I can carry it in my memory is a 
folly, for mine is so bad that I often forget my own name. 
Your worship, however, may read it to me; I shall be glad to 
hear it, for it must needs be very much to the purpose.” 

“Listen, then,” said Don Quixote: “this is what I have 
written: 


“Don Quixote^ s letter to Dulcinea del Toboso. 

“ ‘High and sovereign lady — He who is stabbed by the 
point of absence, and pierced by the arrows of love, O sweetest 
Dulcinea del Toboso, greets thee with wishes for that health 
which he enjoys not himself. If thy beauty despise me, if thy 
disdain still pursue me, although inured to suffering, I shall 
ill support an affliction which is not only severe but lasting. 
My good squire Sancho will tell thee, O ungrateful fair, and 
most beloved foe, to what a state I am reduced on thy account. 
If it be thy pleasure to relieve me, I am thine; if not, do what 
jseemeth good to thee; for by my death I shall at once appease 
thy cruelty and my own desires. — Until death thine, 

“ ‘The Knight of the Sorrowful Figure.’ ” 

“By the life of my father,” quoth Sancho, after hearing 
the letter, “it is the finest thing I ever heard. Odds boddikins! 
[ 141 ] 


THE ADVENTURES OF DON QUIXOTE 


how choicely your worship expresses whatever you please ! and 
how well you close all with ‘the Knight of the Sorrowful 
Figure!’ Verily, your worship, there is nothing but what you 
know. ” 

“The profession which I have embraced,” answered Don 
Quixote, “requires a knowledge of everything. ” “Well, then,” 
said Sancho, “pray clap on the other side of the leaf the order 
for the three colts, and sign it very plain, that people may 
know your hand at first sight. ” 

“With all my heart,” said the knight. 

“I rely upon your worship,” answered Sancho; “let me go 
and saddle Rozinante and prepare to give me your blessing, 
for I intend to depart immediately, without staying to see the 
mad frolics you are about to commit; and I will tell quite 
enough to satisfy her. Now I think of it, sir, how shall I be 
able to find my way back again to this by-place?” 

“Observe and mark well the spot, and I will endeavor to 
remain near it,” said Don Quixote; “and will, moreover, 
ascend some of the highest ridges to discover thee upon thy 
return. But the surest way not to miss me or lose thyself, 
will be to cut down some of the boughs that abound here and 
scatter them here and there on the way to the plain, to serve as 
marks and tokens to guide thee on thy return, in imitation of 
Theseus’ clue to the labyrinth. ” 

Sancho Panza followed this counsel; and having provided 
himself with branches, he begged his master’s blessing, and not 
without many tears on both sides took his leave of him; and 
mounting upon Rozinante, with especial charge from Don 
Quixote to regard him as he would his own proper person, he 
[ 142 ] 


THE ADVENTURES OF DON QUIXOTE 


rode towards the plain, strewing the boughs at intervals, as 
his master directed him. Thus he departed. He had not gone 
above a hundred paces when he turned back and said, “Your 
worship, sir, said right that to enable me to swear with a safe 
conscience it would be proper I should at least see one of your 
mad tricks; though, in plain truth, I have seen enough in 
seeing you stay here. ” 

“Did I not tell thee so?” quoth Don Quixote; “stay but a 
moment, Sancho.” 

Then stripping off his clothes in all haste, without more 
ado he cut a couple of capers in the air, and as many tumbles 
heels over head. Sancho turned Rozinante about, fully satis- 
fied that he might swear his master was stark mad. 


[ 143 ] 


CHAPTER XV 


SANCHO’S JOURNEY TO THE LADY DULCINEA 


S soon as Sancho had gained the high-road he 



directed his course immediately to Toboso, and 


the next day he came within sight of the inn where 
the misfortune of the blanket had befallen him, and fancying 
himself again flying in the air, he felt no disposition to enter it, 
although it was then the hour of dinner and he longed for 
something warm. This inclination, nevertheless, drew him 
forcibly towards the inn; and as he stood doubtful whether 
or not to enter, two persons came out, who immediately 
recognized him. “Pray, Signor,” said one to the other, “is 
not that Sancho Panza yonder on horseback, who, as our 
friend’s housekeeper told us, accompanied her master as his 
squire 

“Truly it is,” said the priest; “and that is our Don 
Quixote’s horse. ” 

No wonder they knew him so well, for they were the priest 
and barber of his village, and the very persons who had tried 
and passed sentence of execution on the mischievous books. 
Being now certain it was Sancho Panza and Rozinante, and 
hoping to hear some tidings of Don Quixote, the priest went 
up to him, and calling him by his name, “Friend Sancho 
Panza,” said he, “where have you left your master 


[ 144 ] 


THE ADVENTURES OF DON QUIXOTE 


Sancho immediately knew them, and resolved to conceal 
the circumstances and place of Don Quixote’s retreat; he 
therefore told them that his master was very busy in a certain 
place about a certain affair of the greatest importance to 
himself, which he durst not discover for the eyes in his head. 

‘‘No, no, Sancho,” quoth the barber, “that story will not 
pass. If you do not tell us where he is, we shall conclude, as 
we suspect already, that you have murdered and robbed him 
since you come thus upon his horse. See, then, that you 
produce the owner of that horse, or woe be to you!” 

“There is no reason why you should threaten me,” quoth 
Sancho; “for I am not a man to rob or murder anybody. 
My master is doing a certain penance much to his liking in 
the midst of yon mountains. ” He then, very freely and with- 
out hesitation, related to them in what state he had left him, 
the adventures that had befallen them, and how he was then 
carrying a letter to the Lady Dulcinea del Toboso — the 
daughter of Lorenzo Corchuelo, with whom his master was 
up to the ears of love. 

They were both astonished at Sancho’s report; and though 
they already knew the nature of Don Quixote’s derangement, 
yet every fresh instance of it was to them a new source of 
wonder. They begged of Sancho Panza to show them the 
letter he was carrying to the Lady Dulcinea del Toboso. He 
said it was written in a pocketbook, and that his master had 
ordered him to get it copied out upon paper at the first town 
he should arrive at. The priest said if he would show it to 
him he would transcribe it in a very fair character. Sancho 
Panza put his hand into his bosom to take out the book, but 
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THE ADVENTURES OF DON QUIXOTE 


found it not; nor could he have found it had he searched until 
this time, for it remained with Don Quixote, who had forgotten 
to give it to him. When Sancho found he had no book he 
turned as pale as death; and having felt again all over his 
body, in great perturbation, without success, he laid hold of his 
beard with both hands and tore away half of it; and then gave 
himself sundry cuffs on the nose and mouth, bathing them all 
in blood. The priest and barber, seeing this, asked him where- 
fore he treated himself so roughly. 

“Wherefore?” answered Sancho, “but that I have let slip 
through my fingers three ass-colts, each of them a castle!” 

“How so?” returned the barber. 

“I have lost the pocketbook,” answered Sancho, “that 
contained the letter to Dulcinea and the bill signed by my 
master, in which he ordered his niece to deliver to me three 
colts out of four or five he had at home. ” 

This led him to mention his loss of Dapple; but the priest 
bid him to be of good cheer, telling him that when he saw his 
master he would engage him to renew the order upon paper in 
a regular way; for that one written in a pocketbook would not 
be accepted. Sancho was comforted by this assurance, and 
said that he did not care for the loss of the letter to Dulcinea 
as he could almost say it by heart, so that they might write it 
down, where and when they pleased. 

“Repeat it, then, Sancho,” quoth the barber, “and we 
will write it afterwards. ” 

Sancho then began to scratch his head in order to fetch the 
letter to his remembrance, now he stood upon one foot, and 
then upon the other, sometimes he looked dowli upon the 
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THE ADVENTURES OF DON QUIXOTE 


ground and sometimes up to the sky; then after biting off 
half the nail of one finger, and keeping his hearers long in 
expectation, he said, “All I remember of the letter is the 
beginning; I believe it said, ‘High and subterran lady.’ ” 
“No,” said the barber, “not subterran^ but superhuman, 
or sovereign lady. ” 

“Ay, so it was, ” said Sancho. “Then, if I do not mistake, 
it went on, ‘the stabbed, and the waking, and the pierced, 
kisses your honor’s hands, ungrateful and most regardless 
fair’ ; and then it said I know not what of ‘health and sickness 
that he sent’; and so he went on, until at last he ended with 
‘thine till death, the Knight of the Sorrowful Figure.’ ” 

They were not a little diverted at Sancho’s excellent 
memory, and commended it much, desiring him to repeat the 
letter twice more that they also might get it by heart, in order 
to write it down in due time. Thrice Sancho repeated it, and 
thrice he added three thousand other extravagances; relating 
to them also many other things concerning his master, but 
not a word of the blanket. He informed them likewise how 
his lord, upon his return with a kind despatch from his lady 
Dulcinea del Toboso, was to set about endeavoring to become 
an emperor, or at least a king — a thing that would be very 
easily done, considering the valor and strength of his arm; 
and when this was accomplished his master was to marry him 
(as by that time he should, no doubt, be a widower) and give 
him to wife one of the empress’s maids of honor, heiress to a 
large and rich territory on the mainland; for as to islands, he 
was quite out of conceit with them. 

Sancho said all this with so much gravity, that they were 
[147] 


THE ADVENTURES OF DON QUIXOTE 


amazed at the potency of Don Quixote’s malady, which had 
borne along with it the senses also of this poor fellow. They 
would not themselves take the trouble to convince him of his 
folly, as it was of a harmless nature, and afforded them 
amusement. “We must contrive,” said the priest at last, 
“to relieve your master from this unprofitable penance; and 
therefore let us go in to concert proper measures, and also to 
get our dinner, which by this time is ready. ” 

Sancho said they might go in, but that he should choose to 
stay without — he would tell them why another time; he 
begged them, however, to bring him out something warm to 
eat and also some barley for Rozinante. Accordingly they 
left him and entered the inn, and soon after the barber returned 
to him with some food. 

The curate and barber having deliberated together on the 
best means of accomplishing their purpose, a device occurred 
to the priest exactly fitted to Don Quixote’s humor, and likely 
to effect what they desired, which was that he should perform 
himself the part of a damsel-errant and the barber equip him- 
self as her squire; in which disguise they should repair to Don 
Quixote; and the curate presenting himself as an afflicted and 
distressed lady, should beg a boon of him, which he as a 
valorous knight-errant, could not do otherwise than grant; 
and this should be a request that he would accompany her 
whither she should lead him, to redress an injury done her by 
a discourteous knight; entreating him, at the same time, not 
to desire her to remove her mask, nor make any further 
inquiries concerning her until he had done her justice on that 
wicked knight. He made no doubt but that Don Quixote 
[ 148 ] 


THE ADVENTURES OF DON QUIXOTE 


would consent to any such terms, and they might thus get 
him away from that place and carry him home, where they 
would endeavor to find some remedy for this extraordinary 
malady. 

The barber liked the priest’s contrivance so well that they 
immediately began to carry it into execution. They borrowed 
a petticoat and head-dress from the landlady, and the barber 
made himself a huge beard of the tail of an ox. The hostess 
having asked them for what purpose they wanted those things, 
the priest gave her a brief account of Don Quixote’s insanity 
and the necessity of that disguise to draw him from his present 
retreat. The host and hostess immediately conjectured that 
this was the same person who had once been their guest, and 
the master of the blanketed squire; and they related to the 
priest what had passed between them, without omitting what 
Sancho had been so careful to conceal. In the meantime the 
landlady equipped the priest to admiration, she put him on a 
cloth petticoat laid thick with stripes of black velvet, each the 
breadth of a span, all pinked and slashed; and a bodice of 
green velvet bordered with satin, which, together with the 
petticoat, must have been made in the days of the Ark. The 
priest would not consent to wear a woman’s head-dress, but 
put on a little white quilted cap which he used as a nightcap, 
and bound one of his garters of black taffeta about his head, 
and with the other made a kind of veil which covered his face 
and beard very well. He then pulled his hat over his face, 
which was so large that it served him for an umbrella, and 
wrapping his cloak around him, he got upon his mule sideways 
like a woman. The barber mounted also, with a beard that 
[ 149 ] 


THE ADVENTURES OF DON QUIXOTE 

reached to his girdle, of a color between sorrel and white, being, 
as before said, made of the tail of an ox. They took leave of 
all, but scarcely had they got out of the inn when the curate 
began to think he had done aniiiss, and that it was not right 
for a priest to be so accoutred, although for so good a purpose; 
and acquainting the barber with his scruples, he begged him 
to exchange apparel, as it would better become him to per- 
sonate the distressed damsel, and he would himself act the 
squire, as being a less profanation of his dignity; and if he 
would not consent he was determined to proceed no farther, 
no matter what should happen to Don Quixote. They were 
now joined by Sancho, who was highly diverted at their 
appearance. The barber consented to the proposed exchange; 
upon which the priest began to instruct him how to act his part, 
and what expressions to use to Don Quixote in order to prevail 
upon him to accompany them and leave the place of his 
penance. The barber assured him that without his instruc- 
tions he would undertake to manage that point to a tittle. 
The dress, however, he would not put on until they came near 
to the place of Don Quixote’s retreat. The priest then 
adjusted his beard, and they proceeded forward, guided by 
Sancho Panza, who on the way related to them their adventure 
with the madman whom they had encoimtered in the moun- 
tain, but said not a word about the portmanteau and its 
contents; for with all his folly and simplicity, the rogue was 
somewhat covetous. 


[ 150 ] 


CHAPTER XVI 


THE LAST OF THE STORY OF CARDENIO 

T he next day they arrived at the spot where 
Sancho had strewed the branches to ascertain the 
place where he had left his master; and upon see- 
ing them he gave notice that they had entered the moun- 
tain pass and would therefore do well to put on their disguise, 
if that had any concern with the delivery of his master. They 
had before told him that their disguise was of the utmost 
importance towards disengaging his master from the mis- 
erable life he had chosen, and that he must by no means tell 
him who they were: and if he should inquire, as no doubt he 
would, whether he had delivered the letter to Dulcinea, he 
should say he had; and that she, not being able to read or 
write, had answered by word of mouth, and commanded the 
knight, on pain of her displeasure, to repair to her immediately 
upon an affair of much importance; for with this and what 
they intended to say themselves they should certainly reconcile 
him to a better mode of life, and put him in the way of soon 
becoming an emperor or a king. Sancho listened to all this 
and imprinted it well on his memory, and gave them many 
thanks for promising to advise his lord to be an emperor. 
He told them also it would be proper he should go before to 
[ 151 ] 


THE ADVENTURES OF DON QUIXOTE 


find him and deliver his lady’s answer; for perhaps that alone 
would be suflScient to bring him out of that place without 
further trouble. They agreed with Sancho, and determined 
to wait for his return with intelligence of his master. Sancho 
entered the mountain pass and left them in a pleasant spot 
refreshed by a streamlet of clear water and shaded by rocks 
and overhanging foliage. 

It was in the month of August, when in those parts the 
heats are violent about three o’clock in the afternoon; on 
which account they found the situation very agreeable, and 
consented the more readily to wait there till Sancho’s return. 
While they were reposing in the shade a voice reached their 
ears which, although unaccompanied by any instrument, 
sounded sweet and melodious. They were much surprised, 
since that was not a place where they might expect to hear 
fine singing; for although it is common to tell of shepherds 
with melodious voices warbling over hills and dales, yet this is 
rather poetical fancy than plain truth. 

The song ended with a deep sigh, and they again listened 
very attentively, in hopes of hearing more; but the music 
being changed into sobs and lamentations, they went in search 
of the unhappy person whose voice was no less excellent than 
his complaints were mournful. They had not gone far when^ 
turning the point of a rock, they perceived a man of the same 
stature and appearance that Sancho had described Cardenio 
to them. The man expressed no surprise at the sight of them, 
but stood still, without again raising his eyes from the ground. 
The priest, who was a well-spoken man, being already ac- 
quainted with his misfortune, went up to him and in a few but 
[ 152 ] 


THE ADVENTURES OF DON QUIXOTE 


impressive words entreated him to forsake that miserable 
kind of life and not hazard so great a misfortune as to lose 
it in that inhospitable place. 

Cardenio was then perfectly tranquil; he likewise appeared 
to be sensible that the persons who now accosted him were 
unlike the inhabitants of those mountains: he was still more 
surprised to hear them speak of his concerns; and he replied, 
‘Tt is very evident to me, gentlemen, whoever you are, that 
you are sent to persuade me to leave this place. If you come 
with the same intention that others have done, before you 
proceed any further in your prudent counsel I beseech you 
to hear my sad story; for then you will probably spare your- 
selves the trouble of endeavoring to find consolation for an 
evil which has no remedy.” 

The two friends being desirous of hearing his own account 
of himself, entreated him to indulge them, assuring him they 
would do nothing but what was agreeable to him, either in the 
way of remedy or advice. The unhappy young man began 
his melancholy story almost in the same words in which he had 
related it to Don Quixote and the goatherd some few days 
before, when, on account of Don Quixote’s zeal in defending 
the honor of knight-errantry, the tale was abruptly suspended; 
but Cardenio’s sane interval now enabled him to conclude it 
quietly. On coming to the circumstance of the letter which 
Don Fernando found between the leaves of the book of 
Amadis de Gaul, he said he remembered it perfectly well. 

“This letter made me resolve to demand Lucinda in 
marriage, as I have already related, and was one of those which 
pleased Don Fernando so much. It was this letter, also, which 
[ 153 ] 


THE ADVENTUHES OF DON QUIXOTE 


made him determine upon my ruin before my design could be 
eflfected. I told Don Fernando that Lucinda’s father expected 
that the proposal should come from mine, but that I durst 
not mention it to him lest he should refuse his consent; not 
that he was ignorant of Lucinda’s exalted merits, which might 
ennoble any family of Spain, but because I had understood 
from him that he was desirous I should not marry until it 
should be seen what Duke Ricardo would do for me. In short, 
I told him that I had not courage to speak to my father about 
it, being full of vague apprehensions and sad forebodings. In 
reply to all this Don Fernando engaged to induce my father 
to propose me to the father of Lucinda. Who could have 
thought that Don Fernando, noble and generous, obliged by 
my services, and secme of success wherever his inclinations 
led him, should take such cruel pains to deprive me of my 
loved one. 

“Don Fernando, thinking my presence an obstacle to the 
execution of his design, resolved to send me to his elder brother 
for money to pay for six horses, which he bought merely for 
a pretence to get me out of the way that he might the more 
conveniently execute his purpose. Could I foresee such treach- 
ery.^ Could I even suspect it.^ Surely not; on the contrary, 
well satisfied with his purchase, I cheerfully consented to 
depart immediately. That night I had an interview with 
Lucinda, and told her what had been agreed upon between 
Don Fernando and myself, assuring her of my hopes of a suc- 
cessful result. She, equally unsuspicious of Don Fernando, 
desired me to return speedily, since she believed the completion 
of our wishes was only deferred until proposals should be made 
[ 154 ] 


THE ADVENTURES OF DON QUIXOTE 


to her father by mine. I know not whence it was, but as she 
spoke, her eyes filled with tears, and some sudden obstruction 
in her throat prevented her saying another word. I set out 
upon my journey sad and pensive, my soul full of gloomy 
thoughts and fears. 

“I executed my commission to Don Fernando’s brother, 
by whom I was well received, but not soon dismissed; for to 
my grief, he ordered me to wait eight days, and to keep out 
of his father’s sight, because his brother had desired that a 
certain sum of money might be sent to him without the duke’s 
knowledge. All this was a contrivance of the false Fernando; 
and I felt disposed to resist the injunction, as it seemed to me 
impossible to support life so many days absent from Lucinda, 
especially having left her in such a state of dejection. Never- 
theless, I did obey, like a good servant, although at the expense 
of my health. But four days after my arrival a man came in 
quest of me with a letter, which, by the superscription, I knew 
to be from Lucinda. I opened it with alarm, convinced that 
it must be something extraordinary that had induced her to 
write. Before I read it I made some inquiries of the messenger. 
He told me that in passing accidentally through a street in the 
town a very beautiful lady, with tears in her eyes, called to 
him from a window, and said to him in great agitation, ‘Friend, 
I beg of you to carry this letter with all expedition to the place 
and person to whom it is directed; in so doing you will perform 
an act of charity; and to supply you with the necessary expense, 
take what is tied up in this handkerchief.’ ‘So saying, she 
threw the handkerchief out of the window, which contained 
a hundred reals and this gold ring, with the letter I have given 
[ 155 ] 


THE ADVENTURES OF DON QUIXOTE 


you. She saw me take up the letter and the handkerchief, 
and assure her by signs that I would do what she commanded, 
and she then quitted the window. Finding myself so well paid 
for the trouble, and knowing by the superscription it was for 
you, I resolved to trust no other person, but deliver it with 
my own hands; and within sixteen hours I have performed the 
journey, which you know is eighteen leagues.’ While the 
grateful messenger thus spoke I hung upon his words, my legs 
trembling so that I could scarcely stand. At length I opened 
the letter, which contained these words: 

‘“The promise Don Fernando gave you to intercede with 
your father he has fulfilled, more for his own gratification than 
your interest. Know, sir, that he has demanded me to wife; 
and my father, allured by the advantage he thinks Don 
Fernando possesses over you, has accepted this proposal so 
eagerly that the marriage is to be solemnized two days hence, 
and with so much privacy that few of our own family are to 
witness it. Conceive my situation! and think whether you 
ought not to return. Whether I love you or not the event will 
prove. May this come to your hand before mine be compelled 
to join his who breaks his promised faith!’ 

“I set out immediately, without waiting for any other 
answer or the money; for now I plainly saw it was not the 
purchase of horses that had induced Don Fernando to send 
me to his brother. My rage against Don Fernando, and the 
fear of losing the rich reward of my long service and affection, 
gave wings to my speed; and the next day I reached our town 
at the moment favorable for an interview with Lucinda. I 
went privately, having left my mule with the honest man who 
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THE ADVENTURES OF DON QUIXOTE 


brought me the letter; and fortune was just then so propitious 
that I found Lucinda at the gate, the constant witness of our 
loves. We saw each other — but how? As soon as Lucinda 
saw me she said, ‘Cardenio, I am in my bridal habit; they are 
now waiting for me in the hall — the treacherous Don Fer- 
nando and my covetous father, with some others, who shall 
sooner be witnesses of my death than of my wedding. Be not 
afflicted, my friend; but endeavor to be present at this sacri- 
fice, which, if my arguments cannot avert, I carry a dagger 
about me, which can oppose a more effectual resistance, by 
putting an end to my life, and will give you a convincing proof 
of the affection I have ever borne you. ’ 

‘T answered with confusion and precipitation, "Let your 
actions, madam, prove the truth of your words. If you carry 
a dagger, I carry a sword to defend you, or kill myself, if for- 
tune proves adverse.’ I do not believe she heard all I said, 
being hastily called away, for the bridegroom waited for her. 
I was irresolute whether to enter her house, and seemed 
bereaved of the power to move; but recollecting how important 
my presence might be on that occasion, I exerted myself and 
hastened thither. Being perfectly acquainted with all the 
avenues, and the whole household engaged, I escaped obser- 
vation, and concealed myself in the recess of a window in the 
hall, behind the hangings, where two pieces of tapestry met, 
whence I could see all that passed. 

"‘The bridegroom entered the hall, in his usual dress, 
accompanied by a cousin of Lucinda; and no other person was 
present, except the servants of the house. Soon after, from 
a dressing-room came forth Lucinda, accompanied by her 
[ 157 ] 


THE ADVENTURES OF DON QUIXOTE 


mother and two of her own maids, adorned in the extreme of 
courtly splendor. The agony and distraction I endured allowed 
me not to observe the particulars of her dress : I remarked only 
the colors, which were carnation and white, and the precious 
stones that glittered on every part of her attire — surpassed, 
however, by the singular beauty of her fair and golden tresses, 
in the splendor of which the brilliance of her jewels and the 
blaze of the surrounding lights seemed to be lost. 

‘‘Being all assembled in the hall, the priest entered, and 
having taken them both by the hand, in order to perform what 
is necessary on such occasions, when he came to these words: 
‘Will you. Signora Lucinda, take Signor Don Fernando, who 
is here present, for your lawful husband.^’ I thrust out my 
head and neck through the tapestry and with attentive ears 
and distracted soul awaited Lucinda’s reply. 

“The priest stood expecting Lucinda’s answer, who paused 
for a long time; and when I thought she would draw forth the 
dagger or make some declaration which might redound to 
my advantage, I heard her say in a low and faint voice, ‘ I will.’ 
Don Fernando said the same, and the ring being put on, they 
remained tied in an indissoluble bond. The bridegroom 
approached to embrace his bride; and she, laying her hand on 
her heart, fainted in the arms of her mother. 

“I was totally confounded. On Lucinda’s fainting, all 
were in confusion; and her mother, trying to assist her, found 
a folded paper, which Don Fernando instantly seized, and read 
it by one of the candles; after which he sat himself down in a 
chair, apparently full of thought, and without attending to the 
exertions made to recover his bride. 

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‘‘During this general consternation I departed, indifferent 
whether I was seen or not; but determined, if seen, to act so 
desperate a part that all the world should know my just 
indignation by the chastisement of the false Don Fernando 
and of the fickle though swooning traitress. But my fate, to 
reserve me for greater evils, if greater can possibly exist, 
ordained that at that juncture I had the use of my under- 
standing, which has since failed me; and instead of seizing the 
opportunity to revenge myself on my cruel enemies, I con- 
demned myself to a more severe fate than I could have inflicted 
on them. In short, I quitted the house; and returning to the 
place where I had left the mule, I mounted and rode out of the 
town, not daring to look behind me. 

“In the utmost perturbation of mind, I journeyed on the 
rest of the night, and at daybreak reached these mountains 
over which I wandered three days more, without road or path 
until I came to a valley not far hence; and inquiring of some 
shepherds for the most rude and solitary part, they directed 
me to this place, where I instantly came, determined to pass 
here the remainder of my life. Among these crags my mule 
fell down dead through weariness and hunger, or, what is more 
probable, to be relieved of so useless a burden; and thus was 
I left, extended on the ground, famished and exhausted, 
neither hoping mor caring for relief. How long I continued in 
this state I know not; but at length I got up, without the sen- 
sation of hunger, and found near me some goatherds, who had 
undoubtedly relieved my wants. They told me of the con- 
dition in which they found me, and of many wild and extrava- 
gant thmgs that I had uttered, clearly proving the derange- 
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THE ADVENTURES OF DON QUIXOTE 


ment of my intellect; and I am conscious that since then I have 
not been always quite right, but have committed a thousand 
extravagances, tearing my garments, howling aloud through 
these solitudes, cursing my fortune, and repeating in vain the 
name of my beloved. When my senses return I find myself so 
weary and bruised that I can scarcely move. My usual abode 
is in the hollow of a tree, large enough to enclose this wretched 
body. The goatherds charitably supply me with food, laying 
it on the rocks, and in places where they think I may find it. 
At other times, as they have informed me in my lucid intervals, 
I come into the road and take from the shepherds by force 
those provisions which they would freely give me. Thus I pass 
my miserable life, waiting imtil it come to an end. 

“This, gentlemen, is my melancholy tale. Trouble not 
yourselves, I beseech you, to counsel or persuade me; for it 
will be of no more avail than to prescribe medicines to the 
patient who rejects them.’’ 


[ 160 ] 


CHAPTER XVII 


THE STORY OF DOROTHEA 

A S the priest was preparing to say something con- 
solatory to Cardenio, he was prevented by a voice 
uttering these mournful accents: 

“Oh, have I then at last found a place which may afford 
a secret grave for this wretched body? Here I may die in 
peace. Here at least I may freely pour forth my lamenta- 
tions, and shall be less wretched than among men, from whom 
I should in vain seek counsel, redress or consolation. ” 

These words being distinctly heard by the curate and his 
companions, they rose up to seek the mourner whom they, knew 
by the voice to be near them, and they had not gone many 
paces when they spied a youth dressed like a peasant sitting 
under an ash-tree at the foot of a rock. They could not at 
first see his face, as he was stooping to bathe his feet in a 
rivulet which ran by. They drew near so silently that he did 
not hear them, and while he continued thus employed they 
stood in admiration at the beauty and whiteness of his feet 
which looked like pure crystal among the pebbles of the brook, 
and did not seem formed for breaking clods or following the 
plough, as might have been expected from the apparel of the 
youth. The curate, who went foremost, made a sign to the 
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THE ADVENTURES OF DON QUIXOTE 


others to crouch down and conceal themselves behind some 
fragments of a rock, whence they might watch his motions. 
He was clad in a drab-colored jacket, girded closely round his 
body with a piece of white linen; his breeches, gaiters, and his 
cap were all of the same color. After bathing his feet he wiped 
them with a handkerchief which he drew from under his cap ; 
and in doing this he displayed a face of such exquisite beauty 
that Cardenio said to the priest in a low voice, “Since it is 
not Lucinda, this can be no human creature. ” 

The youth then took off his cap, and shaking his head, a 
profusion of hair that Apollo himself might envy fell over his 
shoulders — and showed them the figure was a woman, and 
the most beautiful one that two of the party had ever beheld. 
Cardenio declared that Lucinda alone could be compared to 
her. Her long and golden tresses covered not only her shoul- 
ders, but nearly her whole body; and her snowy fingers served 
her for a comb. Her beauty made the three spectators 
impatient to find out who she was, and they now determined 
to accost her. The lovely maiden looked up on hearing them 
approach, and with both her hands putting her hair from before 
her eyes, she saw the intruders; upon which she hastily rose and 
snatched up a bundle, apparently of clothes, which lay near 
her; and without staying to put on her shoes or bind up her 
hair, she fied with precipitation and alarm; but had scarcely 
gone six paces when, her tender feet being unable to bear the 
sharp stones, she fell to the ground. 

The priest now addressed himself to her. “Do not fly 
madam, I entreat you; for we only desire to serve you; indeed 
there is no reason why you should attempt so inconvenient 
[ 162 ] 


THE ADVENTURES OF DON QUIXOTE 


a flight.” Surprised and confounded, she made no reply. 
The priest then, taking her hand, went on to say: “Your hair 
reveals to us, madam, what your habit would conceal; and it 
is manifest that no slight cause has induced you to disguise 
your beauty in such unworthy attire, and brought you to a 
solitude like this, where it has been our good fortune to find 
you; and I hope, dear madam, or, if you please, dear sir, that 
you will dismiss every alarm on our account and give us an 
opportunity of rendering you some assistance. ” 

When the priest thus addressed her the distinguished 
maiden stood like one stupefied, her eyes fixed on them, with- 
out answering one word. At length, after the priest had said 
more to the same purpose, she heaved a deep sigh, and break- 
ing the silence, said, “Since even these retired mountains have 
failed to conceal me, and my hair has betrayed me, I can no 
longer attempt to disguise myself. Indeed, gentlemen. I feel 
very grateful for your kind offers to serve me, but such is my 
unfortunate situation that commiseration is all I can expect; 
nevertheless, that I may not suffer in your opinion from the 
strange circumstances under which you have discovered me, 
I will tell you the cause without reserve, whatever pain it may 
give me.” She spoke with so much grace, and in so sweet 
a voice, that they were still more charmed with her, and 
repeated their kind offers and solicitations for her confidence. 
Having first put on her shoes and stockings, and gathered up 
her hair, she seated herself upon a flat stone, her three audi- 
tors placing themselves around her; and after some efforts to 
restrain her tears, she began her story : 

“There is a town in the province of Andalusia, from which 
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THE ADVENTURES OF DON QUIXOTE 


a duke takes his title, that makes him a grandee of Spain. 
This duke has two sons: the elder heir to his estate; the 
younger heir to I know not what, unless it be to treachery and 
deceitfulness. My parents are vassals of this nobleman, and 
are very rich, though of humble birth, otherwise I should not 
be in this wretched state; for their want of rank is probably 
the cause of all my misfortunes. Not, indeed, that there is 
anything disgraceful in the condition of my family — they 
are farmers, simple, honest people. 

‘'But what they prized above rank or riches was their 
daughter, sole heiress of their fortune; and I was always 
treated by them with the utmost indulgence and affection. 
I was the light of their eyes, the staff of their old age, and the 
sole object of all their hopes. And as I was mistress of their 
affections, so was I of all they possessed. To me they entrusted 
the management of the household, through my hands passed 
the accounts of all that was sown and reaped, the oil-mills, 
the wine-presses, the numerous herds, flocks, and the bee-hives 
— everything, in short, was entrusted to my care. I was both 
steward and mistress and always performed my duties to their 
satisfaction The leisure hours that remained I passed in 
sewing, spinning, or making lace, and sometimes in reading 
good books; or, if my spirits required the relief of music, I had 
recourse to my harp. Such was the life I led in my father’s 
house; and I have not been so particular in describing it out 
of ostentation, but that you may know how undeservedly I 
have been cast from that happy state into my present misery. 
Thus I passed my time, constantly occupied and in retirement, 
seen only, as I imagined, by our own servants. Yet the eyes 
[ 164 J 


THE ADVENTURES OF DON QUIXOTE 


of love, or rather of idleness, discovered me. Don Fernando, 
the younger son of the duke whom I mentioned to you” — 
she had no sooner named Don Fernando than Cardenio’s color 
changed, and he was so violently agitated that the priest and 
the barber were afraid that he would be seized wih one of those 
paroxysms of frenzy to which he was subject. But he remained 
quiet, fixing his eyes attentively on the maid, well conjecturing 
who she was; while she, not observing the emotions of Car- 
denio, continued her story. “No sooner had he seen me than 
(as he afterwards declared) he conceived for me a violent 
affection. Nobody could sleep for serenades. All his efforts 
I resisted, not that the gallantry and solicitations of Don 
Fernando were displeasing to me; for I confess that I felt 
fiattered and gratified by the attentions of a gentleman of his 
high rank. I maintained the utmost reserve towards Don 
Fernando, and never gave him the least encouragement either 
by look or word. 

“Months passed away, and in vain I watched for his 
coming; yet he was in the town, and every day amusing 
himself with hunting. I long strove to hide my tears, and so 
to guard my looks that my parents might not see and inquire 
into the cause of my wretchedness; but suddenly my for- 
bearance was at an end, with all regard to delicacy and fame, 
upon the intelligence reaching me that Don Fernando was 
married, in a neighboring village, to a beautiful young lady, 
of some rank and fortune, named Lucinda. ” — Cardenio heard 
the name of Lucinda at first only with signs of indignation, but 
soon after a flood of tears burst from his eyes. Dorothea, 
however, pursued her story, saying: “When this sad news 
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THE ADVENTURES OF DON QUIXOTE 


reached my ears, my heart, instead of being chilled by it, was so 
incensed and inflamed with rage that I could scarcely forbear 
rushing into the streets and proclaiming the baseness and 
treachery I had experienced. But I became more tranquil 
after forming a project, which I executed the same night. I 
borrowed this apparel of a shepherd swain in my father’s 
service, whom I entrusted with my secret, and begged him to 
attend me in my pursuit of Don Fernando. He assured me 
it was a rash undertaking; but finding me resolute, he said he 
would go with me to the end of the world. Immediately I 
packed up some of my own clothes, with money and jewels, 
and at night secretly left the house, attended only by my 
servant and a thousand anxious thoughts, and travelled on 
foot to the town where I expected to find Don Fernando; 
impatient to arrive, if not in time to prevent his perfidy, to 
reproach him for it. 

“I inquired where the parents of Lucinda lived; and the 
first person to whom I addressed myself told me more than I 
desired to hear. He directed me to the house, and gave me an 
account of all that had happened at the young lady’s marriage. 
He told me, also, that on the night Don Fernando was married 
to Lucinda, after she had pronounced the fatal Yes, she fell 
into a swoon; and the bridegroom, in aiding to give her air 
found a paper written by herself, in which she affirmed that 
she could not be wife to Don Fernando because she was already 
betrothed to Cardenio (who, as the man told me, was a gentle- 
man of the same town), and that she had pronounced her 
assent to Don Fernando merely in obedience to her parents. 
The paper also revealed her intention to kill herself as soon as 
[ 166 ] 


THE ADVENTURES OF DON QUIXOTE 

the ceremony was over, which was confirmed by a poniard they 
found concealed upon her. Don Fernando was so enraged to 
find himself thus mocked and slighted, that he seized hold of 
the same poniard, and would certainly have stabbed her had 
he not been prevented by those present; whereupon he imme- 
diately quitted the place. When Lucinda revived, she confessed 
to her parents the engagement she had formed with Cardenio, 
who, it was suspected, had witnessed the ceremony, and had 
hastened from the city in despair; for he left a paper expressing 
his sense of the wrong he had suffered, and declaring his resolu- 
tion to fiy from mankind forever. 

“All this was publicly known, and the general subject of 
conversation; especially when it appeared that Lucinda also 
was missing from her father’s house — a circumstance that 
overwhelmed her family with grief, but revived my hopes. 

“ In this situation, undecided what course to take, I heard 
myself proclaimed by the public crier, offering a great reward 
for discovering me, and describing my person and dress. It 
was also reported that I had eloped from my father’s house. 
Urged by the fear of discovery, I instantly left the city, and at 
night took refuge among these mountains. I engaged myself 
in the service of a shepherd, and have lived for some months 
among these wilds, always endeavoring to be abroad, lest I 
should betray myself. Yet all my care was to no purpose, for 
my master at length discovered that I was not a man. I sought 
security in flight, and have endeavored to hide myself among 
these rocks. Here, with incessant sighs and tears, I implore 
pity, and alleviation of my misery or an end to my life in this 
desert, that no traces may remain of so wretched a creature. 
[ 167 ] 


THE ADVENTURES OF DON QUIXOTE 

“This, gentlemen,” added Dorothea, “is my tragical story; 
think whether the sighs and tears which you have witnessed 
have not been more than justified. My misfortunes, as you 
will confess, are incapable of a remedy; and all I desire of you 
is to advise me how to live without the continual dread of 
being discovered.” 

Here she was silent. Her auditors were much affected by 
her tale, and the curate was just going to address her, when 
Cardenio interrupted him, saying, “You, madam, then, are 
the beautiful Dorothea, only daughter of the rich Clenardo.^” 
Dorothea started at hearing her father named by such a 
miserable-looking object, and she asked him who he was since 
he knew her father. 

“I am that hapless Cardenio,” he replied, “who also 
suffers from the author of your misfortunes, reduced, as you 
now behold, to nakedness and misery — deprived even of 
reason! Yes, Dorothea, I heard that fatal Yes pronounced by 
Lucinda, and unable to bear my anguish, I fied precipitately 
from her house. Amidst these mountains I thought to have 
terminated my wretched existence; but the account you have 
just given has inspired me with hopes that happiness may still 
be in store for us. Lucinda has vowed herself to be mine, and 
therefore cannot wed another; Don Fernando, being yours, 
cannot have Lucinda. Let us, then, my dear lady, indulge in 
the hope that we may both yet recover our own, since it is not 
absolutely lost. Indeed, I swear to you that your claims will 
I assert; nor will I leave you until I have obliged Don Fer- 
nando, either by argument or my sword, to do you justice.” 


[ 168 ] 


CHAPTER XVIII 


THE PLEASANT PLAN TO PERSUADE DON 
QUIXOTE NOT TO CONTINUE HIS PENANCE 

T hey were now interrupted by the voice of Sancho 
Panza, who, not finding them where he left them, 
began to call out loudly; they went instantly to meet 
him, and were eager in their inquiries after Don Quixote. He 
told them that he had found him feeble, wan, and half dead 
with hunger, sighing for his lady Dulcinea; and though he had 
informed him that it was her express desire that he should 
leave that place and repair to Toboso, where she expected 
him, his answer was that he positively would not appear before 
her beauty until he had performed exploits that might render 
him worthy of her favor; if his master, he added, persisted in 
that humor, he would run a risk of never becoming an 
emperor, as in honor bound; so they must consider what was 
to be done to get him away. The priest begged him not to 
give himself any uneasiness on that account, for they should 
certainly contrive to get him out of his present retreat. 

The priest then informed Cardenio and Dorothea of their 
plan for Don Quixote’s cure, or at least for decoying him to 
his own house. Upon which Dorothea said she would under- 
take to act the distressed damsel better than the barber, 
[ 169 ] 


THE ADVENTURES OF DON QUIXOTE 

especially as she had apparel with which she could perform 
it to the life; and they might have reliance upon her, as she had 
read many works of chivalry, and was well acquainted with 
the style in which distressed damsels were wont to beg their 
boons of knights-errant. 

‘^Let us, then, hasten to put our design into execution,” 
exclaimed the curate, ‘‘since fortune seems to favor all our 
views.” 

Dorothea immediately took from her bundle a petticoat 
of very rich stuff, and a mantle of green silk; and out of a 
casket a necklace and other jewels, with which she quickly 
adorned herself, in such a manner that she had all the appear- 
ance of a rich and noble lady. They were charmed with her 
beauty, grace and elegance, and agreed that Don Fernando 
must be a man of little taste since he could slight so much 
excellence. But her greatest admirer was Sancho Panza, who 
thought that in all his life he had never seen so beautiful a 
creature; and he earnestly desired the priest to tell him who 
this beautiful lady was, and what she was looking for in those 
parts. 

“This beautiful lady, friend Sancho,” answered the priest, 
“is, to say the least of her, heiress of the great kingdom of 
Micomicon; and she comes in quest of your master, to beg a 
boon of him, which is to redress a wrong or injury done her by 
a wicked giant; for it is the fame of your master’s prowess 
which is spread over all Guinea, that has brought this princess 
to seek him. ” 

“Now, a happy seeking and a happy finding!” quoth Sancho 
Panza; “especially if my master is so fortunate as to redress 
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THE ADVENTURES OF DON QUIXOTE 


that injury, and right that wrong, by killing the rascally giant 
you mention; and kill him he certainly will, if he encounters 
him, unless he be a goblin; for ‘my master has no power at all 
over goblins. But do prevent my master from taking it into 
his head to be an archbishop, and advise him to marry this 
princess out of hand; for then, not being qualified to receive 
archiepiscopal orders, he will come with ease to his kingdom, 
and I to the end of my wishes; for I have considered the matter 
well, and find by my account it will not suit me for my 
master to be an archbishop, as I am imfit for the Church, 
being a married man; and for me to be now going about to 
procure dispensations for holding Church living, having, as 
I have, a wife and children, would be an endless piece of work. 
The whole business rests upon my master’s marrying this lady 
out of hand — not knowing her grace, I cannot call her by name.” 

“The Princess Micomiconia is her name,” said the priest; 
“ for as her kingdom is named Micomicon, of course she must 
be called so, and as to your master’s marrying this princess, 
I will promote it to the utmost of my power.” With which 
assurance Sancho was no less satisfied than the priest was 
amazed at his simplicity in thus entering into the extravagant 
fancies of his master. 

Dorothea having now mounted the priest’s mule, and the 
barber fitted on the ox-tail beard, they desired Sancho to con- 
duct them to Don Quixote, cautioning him not to say that he 
knew the priest or the barber, since on that depended all his 
fortune. Neither the priest nor Cardenio would go with them; 
the latter, that he might not remind Don Quixote of the dis- 
pute which he had had with him; and the priest, because his 

[m] 


THE ADVENTURES OF DON QUIXOTE 


presence was not then necessary ; so the others, therefore, went 
on before, while they followed slowly on foot. 

Having proceeded about three-quarters of a league, they 
discovered Don Quixote in a wild, rocky recess clothed, but 
not armed. Dorothea now whipped on her palfrey, attended 
by the well-bearded squire; and having approached the knight, 
the squire leaped from his mule to assist his lady, who, lightly 
dismounting, went and threw herself at Don Quixote’s feet, 
where, in spite of his efforts to raise her, she remained kneeling 
as she thus addressed him: 

“I will never arise from this place, O valorous and 
redoubted knight, until your goodness and courtesy vouchsafe 
me a boon, which will redound to the honor and glory of your 
person, and to the lasting benefit of the most disconsolate and 
aggrieved damsel the sun has ever beheld. And if the valor 
of your powerful arm correspond with the report of your immor- 
tal fame, you are bound to protect an unhappy wight, who, 
attracted by the odor of your renown, is come from distant 
regions to seek at your hands a remedy for her misfortunes. ” 

“It is impossible for me to answer you, fair lady,” said 
Don Quixote, “while you remain in that posture.” 

“I will not arise, signor,” answered the afflicted damsel, 
“until your courtesy shall vouchsafe the boon I ask.” 

“I do vouchsafe and grant it to you,” answered Don 
Quixote, “provided my compliance be of no detriment to my 
king, my country, or to her who keeps the key of my heart and 
liberty. ” 

“It will not be to the prejudice of either of these, dear sir,” 
replied the afflicted damsel. 

[ 172 ] 


THE ADVENTURES OF DON QUIXOTE 

Sancho, now approaching his master, whispered softly in 
his ear: "‘Your worship may very safely grant the boon she 
asks, for it is a mere trifle — only to kill a great lubberly 
giant; and she who begs it is the mighty Princess Micomiconia, 
Queen of the great kingdom of Micomicon, in Ethiopia.” 

“Whosoever the lady may be,” answered Don Quixote, 
“I shall act as my duty and my conscience dictate, in con- 
formity to the rules of my profession;” then addressing him- 
self to the damsel, he said, “Fairest lady, arise; for I vouchsafe 
you whatever boon you ask.” 

“My request, then, is,” said the damsel, “that your mag- 
nanimity will go whither I shall conduct you, and that you will 
promise not to engage in any other adventure until you have 
avenged me on a traitor who, against all right, human and 
divine, has usurped my kingdom. ” 

“I grant your request,” answered Don Quixote, “and 
therefore, lady, dispel that melancholy which oppresses you 
and let your fainting hopes recover fresh life and strength; 
for by my powerful arm, you shall soon be restored to your 
kingdom, and seated on the throne of your ancient and high 
estate, in despite of all the miscreants who would oppose it; 
and therefore we will instantly proceed to action, for there is 
always danger in delay.” 

The distressed damsel would fain have kissed his hands, 
but Don Quixote, who was in every respect a most gallant 
.and courteous knight, would by no means consent to it, but 
making her arise, embraced her with much politeness and 
respect, and ordered Sancho to look after Rozinante’s girth 
and to assist him to arm. Sancho took down the armor from 
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THE ADVENTURES OF DON QUIXOTE 


a tree, where it hung like a trophy; and having got Rozinante 
ready, quickly armed his master, who then cried, ‘'Let us 
hasten to succor this great lady. ” 

The barber was still upon his knees, and under much diffi- 
culty to forbear laughing, and keep his beard from falling, 
but seeing that the boon was already granted, and that Don 
Quixote prepared to fulfil his engagement, he got up and took 
his lady by the other hand, when they both assisted to place 
her upon the mule, and then mounted themselves. Sancho 
alone remained on foot, which renewed his grief for the loss 
of his Dapple; but he bore it cheerfully; reflecting that his 
master was now in the right road, and just upon the point of 
becoming an emperor; for he made no doubt but that he was 
to marry that princess, and be at least King of Micomicon. 
One thing only troubled him, which was that his kingdom 
being held in the land of negroes, his subjects would all be 
blacks. 

Cardenio and the priest, concealed among the bushes, had 
observed all that passed, and being now desirous to join them, 
the priest, who had a ready invention, soon hit upon an 
expedient; for with a pair of scissors which he carried in a case 
he quickly cut off Cardenio’s beard, then gave him his own 
black cloak, which so changed Cardenio’s appearance that 
had he looked in a mirror he would not have known himself. 
Although the others had in the meantime been proceeding 
onward, they easily gained the high-road first, because the 
narrow passes between the rocks were more difficult to horse 
than to foot travellers. They waited in the plain until Don 
Quixote and his party came up; whereupon the curate, after 
[ 174 ] 


THE ADVENTURES OF DON QUIXOTE 

gazing for some time earnestly at him, at last ran towards him 
with open arms, exclaiming aloud, ‘‘Happy is this meeting, O 
thou mirror of chivalry, my noble countryman, Don Quixote 
de la Mancha! the flower and cream of gentility — the pro- 
tector of suffering mankind — the quintessence of knight- 
errantry!” Having thus spoken, he embraced Don Quixote 
by the knee of his left leg. 

The knight was surprised at this address; but after atten- 
tively surveying the features of the speaker he recognized him, 
and would immediately have alighted; but the priest would 
not suffer it. 

“You must permit me to alight. Signor Licentiate,” 
answered Don Quixote; “for it would be very improper that 
I should remain on horseback while so reverend a person as 
you were travelling on foot. ” 

“I will by no means consent to your dismounting,” replied 
the priest, “since on horseback you have achieved the greatest 
exploits this age has witnessed. As for myself, an unworthy 
priest, I shall be satisfled if one of these gentlemen of your 
company will allow me to mount behind him; and I shall then 
fancy myself mounted on Pegasus, or on a zebra. ” 

“I did not think of that, dear Signor,” said Don Quixote; 
“and I know her highness the princess will for my sake order 
her squire to accommodate you with the saddle of his mule 
and he may ride behind, if the beast will carry double. ” 

“I believe she will,” answered the princess; “and I know 
it is unnecessary for me to lay my commands upon my squire, 
for he is too courteous and well-bred to suffer a priest to go on 
foot when he may ride. ” 


THE ADVENIURES OF DON QUIXOTE 


‘‘Most certainly,” answered the barber; and alighting in 
an instant, he complimented the priest with the saddle, which 
he accepted without much persuasion. But it unluckily 
happened that as the barber was getting upon the crupper 
the animal, which was vicious, threw up her hind legs twice 
or thrice into the air, and had they met with Master Nicholas’s 
breast or head he would have wished his rambling after Don 
Quixote elsewhere. He was, however, thrown to the ground 
and so suddenly that he forgot to take due care of his beard, 
which fell off; and all he could do was to cover his face with 
both hands, and cry out that his jaw-bone was broken. 

Don Quixote, seeing such a mass of beard without jaws 
and without blood, lying at some distance from the face of 
the fallen squire, exclaimed, “What a miracle! His beard has 
fallen as clean from his face as if he had been shaven. ” 

The priest, seeing the danger they were in of discovery, 
instantly seized the beard and ran to Master Nicholas, who 
was still moaning on the ground; and going up close to him 
with one twitch replaced it, muttering over him some words 
which he said were a specific charm for fixing on beards, as 
they should soon see; and when it was adjusted, the squire 
remained as well bearded and as whole as before. Don 
Quixote was amazed at what he saw, and begged the priest to 
teach him that charm; for he was of opinion that its virtue 
could not be confined to the refixing of beards, because it was 
clear that where the beard was torn off the flesh must be left 
wounded and bloody, and since it wrought a perfect cure, it 
must be valuable upon other occasions. The priest said that 
his surmise was just, and promised to take the first opportunity 
[ 176 ] 


THE ADVENTURES OF DON QUIXOTE 


of teaching him the art. They now agreed that the priest 
should mount first, and that all three should ride by turns until 
they came to the inn, which was distant about two leagues. 


1177] 


CHAPTER XIX 


THE JOURNEY TO THE INN 

D on QUIXOTE, the princess, and the priest, being 
thus mounted, attended by Cardenio, the barber^ 
and Sancho Panza on foot, Don Quixote said to 
the damsel, “Your highness will now be pleased to lead on in 
whatever direction you choose. ” 

Before she could reply, the priest, interposing, said, 
“Whither would your ladyship go? To the kingdom of 
Micomicon, I presume, or I am much mistaken. ” 

She, being aware that she was to answer in the affirmative, 
said, “Yes, signor, that kingdom is indeed the place of my 
destination. ” 

“If so,” said the priest, “we must pass through my native 
village; and thence you must go straight to Carthagena 
where you may embark; and if you have a fair wind, a smooth 
sea, and no storms, in somewhat less than nine years you will 
get within view of the great Lake of Meona — which is not 
more than a hundred days’ journey from your highness’s 
territories. ” 

“You are mistaken, good sir,” said she; “for it is not 
two years since I left it; and although I had very bad weather 
during the whole voyage, here I am, and I have beheld what so 
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THE ADVENTURES OF DON QUIXOTE 


ardently I desired to see — Signor Don Quixote de la Mancha; 
the fame of whose valor reached my ears the moment I set 
foot in Spain and determined me upon seeking him, that I 
might appeal to his courtesy, and commit the justice of my 
cause to the valor of his invincible arm. ” 

‘Xease, I pray, these encomiums,” said Don Quixote; 
“for I am an enemy to every species of flattery; and even this, 
if it be not such, still are chaste ears offended at this kind of 
discourse. All that I can say, dear madam, is that my powers, 
such as they are, shall be employed in your service, even at 
the forfeit of my life. But waiving these matters for the pres- 
ent, I beg the Signor to tell me what has brought him into 
these piarts alone, unattended, and so lightly apparelled. ” 

“I can soon satisfy your worship,” answered the priest; 
“our friend. Master Nicholas, and I were going to Seville to 
receive a legacy left me by a relation in India, and no incon- 
siderable sum; and on our road yesterday we were attacked 
by four highway robbers, who stripped us of all we had, to 
our very beards, and in such a manner that the barber thought 
it expedient to put on a false one; and for this youth here” 
(pointing to Cardenio) “you see how they have treated him. 
It is publicly reported here that those who robbed us were 
galley-slaves, set at liberty near this very place by a man so 
valiant that, in spite of the commissary and his guards, he 
released them all; but he certainly must have been out of his 
senses, or as great a rogue as any of them, since he could let 
loose wolves among sheep, foxes among poultry, and wasps 
among the honey; for he has defrauded justice of her due, and 
has set himself up against his king and natural lord, by acting 
[ 179 ] 


THE ADVENTURES OF DON QUIXOTE 


against his lawful authority. He has, I say, disabled the 
galleys of their hands; in a word, he has done a deed by 
which his body may suffer.” 

Sancho had communicated the adventure of the galley- 
slaves, so gloriously achieved by his master; and the priest laid 
it on thus heavily to see what effect it would have upon Don 
Quixote, whose color changed at every word, and he dared 
not confess that he had been the deliverer of those worthy 
gentlemen. “These,” said the priest, “were the persons that 
robbed us. ” 

Laughing in his sleeve, Sancho said, as soon as the priest 
had done speaking, “By my truth. Signor, it was my master 
who did that feat; not but what I gave him fair warning, and 
advised him to mind what he was about, and that it was a sin 
to set them at liberty, for that they were all going to the galleys 
for being most notorious villains. ” 

“Blockhead!” said Don Quixote, “knights-errant are 
not bound to inquire whether the afflicted, fettered and 
oppressed whom they meet upon the road are brought to that 
situation by their faults or their misfortunes. It is their part 
to assist them under oppression, and to regard their sufferings, 
not their crimes. I encountered a bead-roll and string of 
miserable wretches, and acted towards them as my profession 
required of me. As for the rest, I care not; and whoever 
takes it amiss, saving the dignity of the signor, and his reverend 
person, I say he knows but little of the principles of chivalry, 
and lies in his throat; and this I will maintain with the edge 
of my sword!” So saying, he fixed himself firmly in his stir- 
rups and lowered his vizor; for Mambrino’s helmet, as he 
[ 180 ] 


THE ADVENTURES OF DON QUIXOTE 

called it, hung useless at his saddle-bow, until it could be 
repaired of the damage it had received from the galley-slaves. 

Dorothea was possessed of too much humor and sprightly 
wit not to join with the rest in their diversion at Don Quixote’s 
expense; and perceiving his wrath, she said, “Sir Knight, be 
pleased to remember the boon you have promised me, and that 
you are thereby bound not to engage in any other adventure, 
however urgent; therefore assuage your wrath; for had 
the signor known that the galley-slaves were freed by that 
invincible arm, he would sooner have sewed up his mouth with 
three stitches, and thrice have bitten his tongue, than he would 
have said a word that might redound to the disparagement of 
your worship.” 

“By my faith I would!” exclaimed the priest; “or even 
have plucked off one of my mustaches.” 

“I will say no more, madam,” said Don Quixote; “and I 
will repress that just indignation raised within my breast 
and quietly proceed until I have accomplished the promised 
boon. But in requital, I beseech you to inform me of the par- 
ticulars of your grievance, as well as the number and quality 
of the persons on whom I must take due, satisfactory and 
complete revenge.” 

“That I will do most willingly,” answered Dorothea, “if 
a detail of my aflSictions will not be wearisome to you. ” 

“Not in the least, my dear madam,” replied the knight. 
“Well then,” said Dorothea, “you have only to favor me with 
your attention.” 

Cardenio and the barber now walked by her side, curious 
to hear what kind of story she would invent. Sancho, who 
[ 181 ] 


THE ADVENTURES OF DON QUIXOTE 

was as much deceived as his master, did the same; and after 
a hem or two, and other preparatory airs, with much grace she 
thus began her story: 

“In the first place, you must know, gentlemen, that my 
name is — ” here she stopped short, having forgotten the name 
the priest had given her; but he came to her aid, saying, “I 
am not at all surprised at your highness’s emotion upon this 
recurrence to your misfortunes; for affliction too often deprives 
us of the faculty of memory; even now, your highness seems 
to forget that you are the great Princess Micomiconia. ” 

“True, indeed ! ” answjered Dorothea; “ but I will command 
my distracted thoughts and proceed in my true tale of sorrow. 

“My father, Tinacrio, the Wise, was very learned in the 
magic art, and foresaw by it that my mother, the Queen 
Xaramilla, would die before him; that he must soon after 
depart this life, and that I should be thus left an orphan. But 
this, he said, did not trouble him so much as the foreknowledge 
he had that a monstrous giant, lord of a great island bordering 
upon our kingdom, called Pandafilando of the Gloomy Aspect 
— for it is averred that although his eyes stand in their proper 
place, he always looks askew, as if he squinted; and this he 
does of pure malignity, to scare and frighten those he looks 
at — my father foresaw, as I said before, that this giant would 
take advantage of my orphan state, invade my kingdom with 
a mighty force, and take it all from me without leaving me the 
smallest village wherein to hide my head; but that it was in 
my power to avoid all this ruin and misery by marrying him, 
although he could not imagine that I would consent to the 
match — and he was in the right, for I could never think of 
[ 182 ] 


THE ADVENTURES OF DON QUIXOTE 


marrying this nor any other giant, however huge and mon- 
strous. My father’s advice was that when, upon his decease, 
Pandafilando invaded my kingdom, I should not make any 
defence, for that would be my ruin; but to avoid death and the 
total destruction of my faithful and loyal subjects, my best 
way was voluntarily to quit the kingdom, since it would be 
impossible for me to defend myself against the terrible power 
of the giant, and immediately set out, with a few attendants, 
for Spain, where I should find a remedy for my distress in a 
knight-errant whose fame about that time would extend all 
over that kingdom; and whose name, if I remember right, was 
to be Don Axote, or Don Gigsote. ” 

‘‘Don Quixote, you mean, madam,” quoth Sancho Panza, 
“otherwise called the Knight of the Sorrowful Figure.” 

“You are right,” said Dorothea. “He said further that 
he was to be tall and thin-visaged; and on his right side, under 
the left shoulder, or thereabouts, he was to have a gray mole, 
with hair like bristles. ” 

Don Quixote, hearing this, said to his squire, “ Come hither, 
Sancho; help me to strip, that I may know whether I am the 
knight alluded to in the prophecy of that sage king. ” 

“You need not strip,” said Sancho; “I know you have 
exactly such a mole on the ridge of your back — a sure sign of 
strength. ” 

“That is suflScient,” said Dorothea; “for we must not 
stand upon trifles. It matters not whether it be on the 
shoulder or on the back-bone. And doubtless I am perfectly 
right in recommending myself to Signor Don Quixote; for he 
must be the knight whom my father meant, since it is proved 
[ 183 ] 


THE ADVENTURES OF DON QUIXOTE 


both by his person, and his extraordinary fame, not only in 
Spain, but over all La Mancha; for I Wias hardly landed in 
Ossuna before I heard of so many of his exploits that I felt 
immediately assured that he must be the very person whom I 
came to seek.” 

‘‘But, dear madam, how came you to land at Ossuna,” 
said Don Quixote, “since that is not a seaport town.^^” 

Before Dorothea could reply, the priest, interposing, said, 
“Doubtless the princess would say that after she had landed 
at Malaga, the first place where she heard news of your wor- 
ship was Ossuna. ” 

“That is what I meant to say, ” said Dorothea. “Nothing 
can be more clear, ” rejoined the priest. “ Please your Majesty 
to proceed.” 

“I have little more to add,” replied Dorothea, “but that 
having now had the good fortune to meet with Signor Don 
Quixote, I already look upon myself as queen and mistress of 
my whole kingdom, since he out of his courtesy and generosity 
has promised, in compliance with my request, to go with me 
wherever I please to conduct him; which shall be only into the 
presence of Pandafilando of the Gloomy Aspect, that he may 
slay him and restore to me that which has been so unjustly 
usurped. Nor is there the smallest reason to doubt but that 
all this will come to pass according to the prophecy of the wise 
Tinacrio, my good father; who, moreover, left an order, 
written either in Chaldean or Greek, that if this knight in his 
prophecy, after cutting off the giant’s head, should desire to 
marry me, I must immediately submit to be his lawful wife 
and give him possession of my kingdom. ” 

[ 184 ] 


THE ADVENTURES OF DON QUIXOIE 

“Now what thinkest thou, friend Sancho?” quoth Don 
Quixote. “Dost thou hear that.^^ Did I not tell thee so? See 
whether we have not now a kingdom to command, and a queen 
to marry!” “So it is,” cried Sancho, and so saying, he cut a 
couple of capers and exhibited other tokens of delight. Then 
laying hold of the reins of Dorothea’s mule, and making her 
stop, he fell down upon his knees before her, beseeching her 
to give him her hand to kiss, in token that he acknowledged 
her for his queen and mistress. 

With difficulty could the rest of the party restrain their 
laughter at the madness of the master and the simplicity of 
the man. Dorothea held out her hand to him, and promised 
to make him a great lord in her kingdom when again she was 
in possession of it. Sancho returned her thanks in expressions 
which served to increase their mirth. 

“This, gentlemen,” continued Dorothea, “is my history. 
I have only to add that of all the attendants I brought with 
me from my kingdom, I have none left but this well-bearded 
squire; for the rest were all drowned in a violent storm which 
overtook us in sight of the port. He and I got ashore on a couple 
of planks, as it were by a miracle; and indeed the whole prog- 
ress of my life is a miracle and mystery, as you may have 
observed. And if I have exaggerated, or not been so exact 
as I ought to have been, ascribe it, I entreat you, to what the 
reverend gentleman said at the beginning of my narrative, 
that continual and extraordinary troubles deprive the sufferer 
even of memory.” 

“Mine shall never fail me, O most worthy and exalted 
lady!” cried Don Quixote, “whatever I may be called upon 
[ 185 ] 


THE ADVENTURES OF DON QUIXOTE 


to endure in your service. And again I confirm my engagement, 
and swear to accompany you to the remotest regions of the 
earth until I shall meet and grapple with that fierce enemy of 
yours, whose proud head, by my strong arm, I will cut off with 
the edge of this sword — thanks be to Gines de Passamonte, 
who carried off my own.” These last words he uttered in a 
lower tone; then again raising his voice he proceeded to say, 
“Having severed it from his body, and replaced you in peace- 
able possession of your dominions, the disposal of your person 
will be at your own discretion, since, while my memory is 
engrossed, my heart enthralled, and my mind subjected to 
her who — I say no more — it is impossible I should prevail 
upon myself even to think of marrying.” 

Don Quixote’s last declaration was so displeasing to 
Sancho, that in a great fury he exclaimed, “ I vow and swear. 
Signor Don Quixote, your worship cannot be in your right 
senses! How else is it possible you should scruple to marry 
so great a princess.^ Do you think that fortune is to offer 
you at every turn such good luck as this.^^ Is my lady Dul- 
cinea more beautiful? No indeed, not by half! nay, I could 
almost say she is not worthy to tie this lady’s shoe-string. 
I am like, indeed, to get the earldom if your worship stands 
fishing for mushrooms at the bottom of the sea! Marry, 
marry at once, and take this kingdom that drops into your 
hand; and when you are a king, make me a marquis or a 
lord-lieutenant ! ” 

Don Quixote, unable to endure such blasphemies against 
his lady Dulcinea, raised his lance, and without word or warn- 
ing let it fall with such violence upon Sancho that he was laid 
[ 186 ] 


THE ADVENTURES OF DON QUIXOTE 


flat on the ground; and had not Dorothea called out, entreating 
him to forbear, the squire had doubtless been killed on the spot. 

“Thinkest thou,” said Don Quixote to him, after a short 
pause, “base varlet! that I am always to stand with my arms 
folded, and that there is to be nothing but transgression on 
thy side and forgiveness on mine.^ Expect it not, wretch! 
for so thou surely art, having presumed to speak ill of the 
peerless Dulcinea. Tell me, scoffer! what, thinkest thou, has 
gained this kingdom, and cut off the head of this giant, and 
made thee a marquis but the valor of Dulcinea, employing 
my arm as the instrument of her exploits? She fights, she 
vanquishes in me; in her I live and breathe, and of her I hold 
my life and being. O base-born villain! what ingratitude, 
when thou seest thyself exalted from the dust of the earth to 
the title of a lord, to make so base a return as to speak con- 
temptuously of the hand that raised thee!” 

Sancho was not so much hurt but that he heard all his 
master said to him; and getting up nimbly, he ran behind 
Dorothea’s palfrey; and thus sheltered, he said to him, “Pray, 
sir, tell me — for if you are resolved not to marry this princess, 
it is plain the kingdom will not be yours — what favors then 
will you be able to bestow on me? That is what I complain of. 
Marry this queen, sir, once for all, now we have her, as it were, 
rained down upon us from heaven. As to the matter of beauty, 
I have nothing to say to that; but if I must speak the truth, 
I really think them both very well to pass, though I never saw 
the Lady Dulcinea. ” 

“How! never saw her, traitor!” said Don Quixote; “hast 
thou not just brought me a message from her? ” 

[ 187 ] 


THE ADVENTURES OF DON QUIXOTE 


“I say I did not see her so leisurely,” said Sancho, “as to 
take particular notice of her features piece by piece; but, take 
her altogether, she looks well enough. ” 

“Now I pardon thee,” said Don Quixote; “and do thou 
excuse my wrath towards thee; for first emotions are not in 
our power. ” 

“So I find,” answered Sancho; “and in me the desire of 
talking is always a first motion, and I cannot forbear uttering 
at once whatever comes to my tongue’s end.” 

“Nevertheless,” quoth Don Quixote, “take heed, Sancho, 
what thou utterest; for ‘the pitcher that goes often to the well’ 
— I say no more. ” 

“Let there be no more of this,” said Dorothea, “go, 
Sancho, and kiss your master’s hand, and ask his pardon. 
Henceforward be more cautious in' your praises and dispraises; 
and speak no ill of that Lady Toboso of whom I know no more 
than that I am her humble servant. ” Sancho went with his 
head hanging down, and begged his master’s hand, who 
presented it to him with much gravity; and when he had kissed 
it, Don Quixote gave him his blessing; he then begged that he 
would walk on before with him, as he wished to put some 
questions to him, and to have some conversation on affairs of 
great importance. 

Having both advanced a little distance before the rest, 
they saw a man coming towards them mounted upon an ass, 
and as he drew near he had the appearance of a gipsy. But 
Sancho Panza, who, whenever he saw an ass, followed it with 
eyes and heart, had no sooner got a glimpse of the man than he 
recognized Gines de Passamonte, and by the same clue was 
[ 188 ] 


THE ADVENTURES OF DON QUIXOTE 

directed to his lost ass; it being really Dapple himself on which 
Gines was mounted; for in order to escape discovery, and sell 
the animal, he had disguised himseK like a gipsy, as he could 
speak their language, among many others, as readily as his 
native tongue. 

Sancho immediately called out aloud to him, ‘‘Ah, rogue 
Gineslllo! leave my darling, let go my life, rob me not of my 
comfort, quit my sweetheart, leave my delight! — fly, rap- 
scallion, fly! — get you gone, thief! and give up what is not 
your own!” 

So much railing was not necessary; for at the flrst word 
Gines dismounted in a trice, and taking to his heels, was out of 
sight In an instant. Sancho ran to his Dapple, and embracing 
him, said, “How hast thou done, my dearest Dapple, delight 
of my eyes, my sweet companion?” Then he kissed and 
caressed him as if he had been a human creature. The ass 
held his peace, and suffered himself to be thus kissed and 
caressed by Sancho without answering him one word. They 
all came up and wished him joy on the restoration of his 
Dapple; especially Don Quixote, who at the same time 
assured him that he should not on that account revoke his 
order for the three colts; for which he had Sancho’s hearty 
thanks. 


[ 189 ] 


CHAPTER XX 


THE CONVERSATION WHICH PASSED BETWEEN 
DON QUIXOTE AND HIS SQUIRE SANCHO PANZA 

D on QUIXOTE proceeded on his way with Sancho. 
“Let us forget, friend Panza, what is past; and 
tell me now, all rancor and animosity apart, 
where, how, and when didst thou find Dulcinea? What was 
she doing? What didst thou say to her? What answer did 
she return? How did she look when she read my letter? 
Who transcribed it for thee? Tell me all that is worth know- 
ing, inquiring, or answering. Inform me of all, without 
adding or diminishing aught to deprive me of any satisfac- 
tion.” 

“Sir,” answered Sancho, “to say the truth, nobody tran- 
scribed the letter for me, for I carried no letter at all. ” 

“Thou sayest true,” quoth Don Quixote, “for I found the 
pocketbook in which I wrote it two days after thy departure, 
which troubled me exceedingly; and I thought thou wouldst 
return for it. ” 

“So I should have done,” answered Sancho, “had I not 
got it by heart when your worship read it to me; and so per- 
fectly, that I repeated it to a parish clerk, who wrote it down so 
exactly that he said, though he had read many letters, he had 
never in all his life seen or read so pretty a letter. ” 

[ 190 ] 


THE ADVENTURES OP DON QUIXOTE 

“And hast thou it still by heart, Sancho?” said Don 
Quixote. 

“No, sir,” answered Sancho; “for after I had delivered it, 
seeing it was to be of no further use, I forgot it on purpose. If 
I remember anything, it is ‘subterran,’ I mean ‘sovereign 
lady,’ and the conclusion, ‘thine until death, the Knight of 
the Sorrowful Figure’; and between these two things I put 
above three hundred hearts, and lives, and dear eyes. ” 

“This is very well — proceed,” said Don Quixote. “On 
thy arrival, what was that queen of beauty doing I suppose 
thou foundest her stringing pearls, or embroidering some device 
with threads of gold for this her captive knight?” 

“No, faith!” answered Sancho; “I found her winnowing 
two bushels of wheat in a back yard of her house. ” 

“Then be assured,” said Don Quixote, “that the grains of 
that wheat were so many grains of pearl, when touched by her 
hands. And didst thou observe, friend, whether the wheat 
was fine, or of the ordinary sort?” 

“It was neither,” answered Sancho, “but of the reddish 
kind.” 

“Rely upon it, however,” quoth Don Quixote, “that when 
winnowed by her hands it made the finest bread. But go on. 
When thou gavest her my letter, did she kiss it? Did she put 
it upon her head? Did she use any ceremony worthy of such 
a letter? — or what did she do?” 

“WEen I was going to give it to her,” answered Sancho, 
“she was so busy winnowing a good sieve-full of the wheat 
that she said to me, ‘Lay the letter, friend, upon that sack; 
for I cannot read it until I have done what I am about. ’ 

[ 191 ] 


THE ADVENTURES OF DON QUIXOTE 

“Discreet lady!” said Don Quixote; “this was assuredly 
that she might read and enjoy it at leisure. Proceed, Sancho; 
while thus employed what discourse had she with thee.^ — 
what did she inquire concerning me.^ And what didst thou 
answer Tell me all; omit not the slightest circumstance.” 

“She asked me nothing,” said Sancho; “but I told her how 
your worship was doing penance for her service among these 
rocks, just like a savage; sleeping on the ground, not eating 
bread on a napkin, nor combing your beard, weeping, and 
curing your fortune. ” 

“In saying that I cursed my fortune, thou saidst wrong,” 
quoth Don Quixote: “I rather bless it, and shall bless it all 
the days of my life, for having made me worthy to love so 
high a lady as Dulcinea del Toboso. ” 

“So high, indeed,” answered Sancho, “that in good faith 
she is a hand taller than I am. ” 

“Why, how! Sancho,” said Don Quixote, “hast thou 
measured with her?” “Yes,” answered Sancho; “for as I 
was helping her to put a sack of wheat upon an ass we came so 
close together that I noticed she was taller than I by more than 
a full span.” 

“True,” replied Don Quixote; “and is not this uncommon 
stature adorned by millions of intellectual graces? She has 
now done winnowing, and the corn is sent to the mill. What 
did she do when she had read the letter? ” 

“The letter,” quoth Sancho, “she did not read; for she 
said that she could neither read nor write; so she tore it to 
pieces, saying she would not give it to anybody to read, that 
her secrets might not be known all over the village; and that 
[ 192 ] 


THE ADVENTURES OF DON QUIXOTE 

what I had told her by word of mouth concerning your wor- 
ship’s love, and all you were doing for her sake, was enough; 
and she bid me tell your worship that she kissed your hands, 
and that she would rather see you than write to you; so 
begged and commanded you, at sight hereof, to quit these 
brakes and bushes, and leave off these foolish pranks, and set 
out immediately for Toboso, if business of more consequence 
did not prevent you; for she wished mightily to see your wor- 
ship. She laughed heartily when I told her how you called 
yourself the Knight of the Sorrowful Figure. I asked her 
whether the Biscayan had been there with her; she told me he 
had, and that he was a very good kind of fellow. I asked her 
also after the galley-slaves, but she had not seen any of them. ” 
‘‘All this is well,” said Don Quixote; “but tell me, what 
jewel did she present thee with at thy departure, in return for 
the tidings thou hadst brought her.^ for it is an ancient and 
universal custom among knights and ladies-errant to bestow 
some rich jewel on the squires, damsels, or dwarfs who bring 
them new's of their mistresses or knights, as a reward or 
acknowledgment for their welcome intelligence. ” 

“Very likely,” quoth Sancho, “and a very good custom it 
was; but it must have been in days of yore, for now-a-days the 
custom is to give only a piece of bread and cheese, for that was 
what my lady Dulcinea gave me, over the pales of the yard, 
when she dismissed me; and, by the way, the cheese was made 
of sheep’s milk. ” 

“She is extremely generous,” said Don Quixote, “and if she 
did not give thee a jewel, it must have been because she had 
none about her. I shall see her, and all will then be rectified. 

[ 193 ] 


THE ADVENTURES OF DON QUIXOTE 

“But I marvel at one thing, Sancho, which is, that thou 
must have gone and returned through the air; for thou hast 
been little more than three days in performing this journey, 
although the distance between this place and Toboso is more 
than thirty leagues; whence I conclude that the sage enchanter 
who has the superintendence of my affairs must have expedited 
thy journey; for there are sages who will take up a knight- 
errant sleeping in his bed, and without his knowing anything 
of the matter, he awakes the next day above a thousand leagues 
from the place where he fell asleep. Indeed, were it otherwise, 
it would be impossible for knights-errant to succor each other, 
as they often do, in the critical moment of danger. A knight 
for instance, happens to be fighting in the mountains of 
Armenia with some dreadful monster, or fierce goblin, or 
doughty knight; he has the worst of the combat, and is just 
on the point of being killed, when suddenly another knight, 
his friend, who perhaps a moment before was in England, 
comes upon a cloud, or in a fiery chariot, and rescues him from 
death; and on the same evening he finds himself in his own 
chamber, with a good appetite for supper, after a journey of 
two or three thousand leagues. And all this is effected by the 
diligence and skill of those sage enchanters. So that, friend 
Sancho, I make no difficulty in believing that thou hast really 
performed the journey in that short time; having, doubtless, 
been borne unconsciously through the air by some friendly 
power. But waiving this subject for the present, what 
thinkest thou I should do respecting my lady’s orders that I 
should wait upon her? I am bound to obey her commands; 
yet how is it possible on account of the boon I have promised 
[ 194 ] 


THE ADVENTURES OF DON QUIXOTE 


to the princess? The laws of chivalry oblige me to consider 
my honor rather than my pleasure. On the one hand, I am 
incited by glory to the accomplishment of this enterprise. My 
best plan, I believe, will be to travel with all possible expedi- 
tion, cut off the giant’s head, replace the princess on her throne, 
and then instantly return to that sun which illumines my 
senses, who will pardon a delay which was only to augment 
her fame and glory; since all my victories, past, present, and 
to come, are but emanations from her favor.” 

“Alack!” cried Sancho, “your worship must needs be down- 
right crazy! Tell me, pray, do you mean to take this journey 
for nothing? And will you let slip such a match as this, when 
the dowry is a kingdom which, they say, is above twenty 
thousand leagues round, and abounding in all things necessary 
for the support of life and bigger than Portugal and Castile 
together? Talk no more in this manner, but follow my advice, 
and be married at the first place where there is a priest. And 
please to recollect, I am old enough to give advice, and what I 
now give is as fit as if it were cast in a mould for you; for a bird 
in the hand is worth two in the bush; and he that will not 
when he may, when he would, he shall have nay. ” 

“Hear me, Sancho,” replied Don Quixote: “if thou 
advisest me to marry, only that I may have it in my power to 
reward thee, be assured that I can gratify thy desire without 
taking such a measure; before the battle I will make an agree- 
ment to possess part of the kingdom without marrying the 
princess; and when I have it, to whom dost thou think I shall 
give it but to thyself?” 

“No doubt,” answered Sancho; “but pray, sir, I would 
[ 195 ] 


THE ADVENTURES OF DON QUIXOTE 


not have your worship trouble yourself now about seeing my 
lady Dulcinea, but go and kill the giant, and let us make an 
end of this business; for I verily believe it will bring us much 
honor and profit.’’ 

“Thou art in the right, Sancho,” said Don Quixote, “and 
I shall follow thy counsel, and accompany the princess before 
I visit my lady Dulcinea. But I beg thou wilt say nothing on 
the subject of our conference, not even to our companions; 
for since Dulcinea is so reserved that she would not have her 
thoughts known, it would be improper in me or in any other 
person to reveal them.” 

While they were thus talking. Master Nicholas called aloud 
to them to stop, as they wished to quench their thirst at a small 
spring near the road. Don Quixote halted, much to the satis- 
faction of Sancho, who began to be tired of telling so many lies, 
and was afraid his master should at last catch him tripping; 
for although he knew Dulcinea was a peasant-girl of Toboso, 
he had never seen her in his life. Meanwhile, Cardenio had put 
on the clothes worn by Dorothea in her disguise, being better 
than his own. They alighted at the fountain, and with the 
provisions which the curate had brought from the inn they all 
appeased their hunger. While they were thus employed a lad 
happened to pass that way, who, after looking earnestly at 
the party, ran up to Don Quixote, and embracing his knees, 
began tx) weep, saying, “Ah, dear sir! does not your worship 
know me? Look at me well; I am Andres, the lad whom you 
delivered from the oak, to which I was tied.” 

Don Quixote recollected him, and taking him by the hand, 
he thus addressed the company: “To convince you of the 
[ 196 ] 


THE ADVENTURES OF DON QUIXOTE 

importance of knights-errant in the world, in order to redress 
the wrongs and injuries committed by insolent and wicked 
men, know that some time since, as I wias passing a wood, I 
heard certain cries, and the voice of some person in affliction 
and distress. Prompted by my duty, I hastened towards the 
place whence the voice seemed to come, and I found, tied to 
an oak, this lad whom you see here. I am rejoiced to my soul 
that he is present, for he will attest the truth of what I tell you. 
He was bound, I say, to an oak-tree, and a country-fellow, 
whom I afterwards found to be his master, was lashing him 
with a bridle. I immediately demanded the reason of so severe 
a chastisement. The clown answered that he was his servant, 
whom he was punishing for neglect, proceeding rather from 
knavery than simplicity. ‘Sir,’ said the boy, ‘he whips me 
only because I ask him for my wages.’ The master, in reply, 
made many speeches and excuses which I heard indeed, but 
did not admit. In short, I compelled him to unbind the youth 
and made him swear to take him home and pay every real^ 
perfumed into the bargain. Is not all this true, son Andres.^ 
Didst thou not observe with what authority I commanded, 
and with what humility he promised, to do whatever I enjoined, 
notified, and required of him.? Answer boldly; relate to this 
company what passed, that they may see the benefits resulting 
from the vocation of knights-errant. ” 

“All that your worship has said is very true,” answered 
the lad; “but the business ended quite contrary to what yoiu* 
worship supposes.” 

“How contrary.?” replied Don Quixote: “did not the 
rustic instantly pay thee.?” 

[ 197 ] 


THE ADVENTURES OF DON QUIXOTE 


“He not only did not pay me/’ answered the boy, “but as 
soon as your worship was out of the wood, and we were left 
alone, he tied me again to the same tree, and gave me many 
fresh lashes; and at every stroke he said something by way of 
scoff or jest upon your worship, which, if I had not felt so much 
pain, would have made me laugh. In short, he laid on in 
such a manner that I have been ever since in a hospital, to 
get cured of the bruises that cruel fellow then gave me; for 
all of which your worship is to blame; for had you gone on 
ybur way, and not come when you were not called, nor meddled 
with other folks’ business, my master would have been satisfied 
with giving me a dozen or two lashes, and then would have 
loosed me and paid me my due. But as your worship abused 
him so unmercifully, and called him so many bad names, his 
wrath was kindled; and not having it in his power to be 
revenged on you, no sooner had you left him than he dis- 
charged such a tempest upon me that I shall never be a man 
again while I live.” 

“The mischief,” said Don Quixote, “was in my departing 
before I had seen you paid; for I should have known, by long 
experience, that no rustic will keep his word if he finds it to his 
interest to break it. But thou mayest remember, Andres, 
that I swore if he paid thee not I would hunt him out although 
he were concealed in a whale’s belly.” 

“That is true,” quoth Andres, “but it signifies nothing.” 

‘‘Thou shalt see,” said Don Quixote, and so saying, he 
started up and ordered Sancho to bridle Rozinante, who was 
grazing. Dorothea asked him what he intended to do. He 
told her he was going in search of the rustic, to chastise him 
[ 198 ] 


THE ADVENTURES OF DON QUIXOTE 


for his base conduct, and make him pay Andres to the last 
farthing, in spite and defiance of all the rustics in the world. 
She desired he would recollect that, according to the promised 
boon, he could not engage in any other adventure until hers 
had been accomplished; and as no one could be more sensible 
of this than himself, she entreated him to curb his resentment 
until his return from her kingdom. 

“You are right,” answered Don Quixote; “and Andres 
must, as you say, madam, have patience until my return; 
and I again swear not to rest until he is revenged and paid.” 

“I do not think much of these oaths,” said Andres; “I 
would rather have wherewithal to carry me to Seville than 
all the revenges in the world. If you have anything to give 
me to eat, let me have it, and heaven be with your worship, 
and with all knights-errant, and may they prove as lucky 
errants to themselves as they have been to me. ” 

Sancho pulled out a piece of bread and cheese, and giving 
it to the lad, said to him, “Here, brother Andres, we have all 
a share in your misfortune. ” 

“Why, what share have you in it?” said Andres. “This 
piece of bread and cheese which I give you,” answered Sancho, 
“I may want it myself; for I would have you know, friend, 
that we squires to knights-errant are subject to much himger 
and ill-luck, and other things, too, which are better felt than 
told.” 

Andres took the bread and cheese, and seeing that nobody 
else gave him anything, he made his bow and marched off. 
It is true he said at parting, to Don Quixote, “For the love of 
heaven. Signor Knight-Errant, if you ever meet me again 
[ 199 ] 


THE ADVENTURES OF DON QUIXOIE 


though you see me beaten to pieces, do not come with your 
help, but leave me to my fate which cannot be so bad but that 
it will be made worse by your worship, whom God confound, 
together with all the knights-errant that ever were born!” 

So saying, he ran off with so much speed that nobody 
attempted to follow him. Don Quixote was much abashed 
at this affair of Andres, and his companions endeavored to 
restrain their inclination to laugh, that they might not put him 
quite out of countenance. 

After having made a hearty repast, they forthwith 
mounted, and without encountering any adventure worth 
relating, arrived the next day at the inn so much the dread 
and terror of Sancho Panza, who now, much against his will, 
was obliged to enter it. The hostess, the host, their daughter, 
and the maid, seeing Don Quixote and his squire, went out 
to meet and welcome them. The knight received them with 
a grave but approving countenance desiring them to prepare 
a better bed than they had given him before; to which the 
hostess answered, that provided he would pay better than he 
did before, she would get him a bed for a prince. 

Don Quixote having satisfied them by his promises, they 
provided him with a tolerable bed, in the same apartment 
which he had before occupied; and being so much shattered 
both in body and brains, he immediately threw himself down 
upon it. He was no sooner shut into his chamber than the 
hostess fell upon the barber, and taking him by the beard 
said, “By my faith, you shall use my tail no longer for a 
beard; give me my tail again, for my husband’s comb is so 
thrown about that it is a shame. ” 

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THE ADVENTURES OF DON QUIXOTE 


The barber would not part with it, for all her tugging, 
until the priest told him that he might give it to her; for as 
there was no further need of that artifice, he might now appear 
in his own shape, and tell Don Quixote that, being robbed by 
the galley-slaves, he had fied to this inn; and if he should ask 
for the princess’s squire, they should say she had dispatched 
him before, with intelligence to her subjects of her approach 
with their common deliverer. Upon which the barber 
willingly surrendered the tail to the hostess, together with 
the other articles she had lent them in order to effect Don 
Quixote’s enlargenaent. 

All the people at the inn were struck with the beauty of 
Dorothea and the comely person of Cardenio. The priest 
ordered them to get ready what the house afforded, and the 
host, hoping to be well paid, quickly served up a decent supper. 
Don Quixote still continued asleep, and they agreed not to 
awaken him, for at that time he had more occasion for sleep 
than food. 


[201 ] 


CHAPTER XXI 


WHAT BEFELL AT THE INN 

D uring the supper, at which the host and his 
family were present, as well as the strangers who 
happened to be then at the inn, the discourse 
turned upon the extraordinary derangement of Don Quixote 
and the state in which he had been found in the mountain. 
The hostess, seeing that Sancho was not present, related to 
them his adventure with the carrier, and also the whole story 
of the blanket, at which they were not a little diverted. 

The priest happening to remark that the books of chivalry 
which Don Quixote had read had turned his brain, the inn- 
keeper said, “I cannot conceive how that can be; for really, 
in my opinion, there is no choicer reading in the world. I 
have three or four of them by me, with some manuscripts, 
which in good truth have kept me alive, and many others, for 
in harvest time, among the reapers who take shelter here 
during the noon-day heat, there is always some one able to 
read, who will take up one of these books; and above thirty of 
us place ourselves around him and listen to him with so much 
pleasure that it keeps away a thousand gray hairs; at least I 
can say for myself that when I hear of those furious and terrible 
blows which the knights-errant lay on, I long to be doing as 
much, and could sit and hear them day and night. ’’ 

[ 202 ] 


THE ADVENTURES OF DON QUIXOTE 

‘‘I wish you did,” quoth the hostess; ‘‘for I never have a 
quiet moment in my house but when you are listening to the 
reading; for you are then so besotted that you forget to scold. ” 
“I listen, too,” said the daughter, “and though I do not 
understand, I take some pleasure in hearing. Yet truly these 
blows and slashes which please my father so much are not to 
nxy mind. I like the complaints the knights make when they 
are absent from their loves; and really sometimes they make 
me weep for pity. ” 

“Well, well,” said the priest; “but pray, landlord, let us 
see those books.” 

“With all my heart,” answered the host; and going into 
his chamber, he brought out an old trunk, with a padlock 
and chain to it, and opening it, he took out three large 
volumes, and some manuscript papers written in a very fair 
character. 

“Here, landlord, take your books,” said the priest at last, 
“ and if you will not trust my word, you must settle the point 
of their truth or fiction as you please. Much good may they 
do you; and may they not place you on the same foot as your 
guest, Don Quixote.” 

“Not so,” answered the innkeeper: “I shall not be so 
mad as to turn knight-errant; for I know very well that times 
are altered since those famous knights wandered about the 
world. ” 

Sancho entered during this conversation, and was much 
confounded at hearing that knights-errant were not now in 
fashion, and that all books of chivalry were mere lies and 
fooleries; he therefore secretly resolved to wait the event of 
[ 203 ] 


THE ADVENTURES OF DON QUIXOTE 


his master’s present expedition, determined, if it was not ^c- 
cessful, to leave him and return home to his wife and children 
and to his accustomed labor. 


[ 204 ] 


CHAPTER XXII 


THE STRANGE ENCHANTMENT OF THE 
UNFORTUNATE KNIGHT 

T he supper being over, * the cloth was removed, 
and the ladies retired to the best apartments. 
Don Quixote offered his services to guard the 
castle, lest some giant or other miscreant errant, tempted 
by the treasure of beauty there enclosed, should presume 
to make an attack upon it. His friends thanked him and 
took occasion to amuse the judge with an accoimt of his 
strange frenzy. Sancho Panza alone was out of all patience 
at sitting up so late. However, he was better accommodated 
than any of them, upon the accoutrements of his ass. Don 
Quixote, according to promise, sallied out of the inn to take 
his post at the castle-gate. 

Profound silence now reigned over the whole house, all 
being asleep except the innkeeper’s daughter and her maid, 
who, knowing Don Quixote’s weak points, determined to 
amuse themselves by playing him some trick while he was 
keeping guard without doors. There was no window on that 
side of the house which overlooked the field, except a small 
opening to the straw-loft, where the straw was thrown out. 
At this hole the pair of girls planted themselves, whence they 
[ 205 ] 


THE ADVENTURES OF DON QUIXOTE 


commanded a view of the knight on horseback, leaning on 
his lance, and could hear him ever and anon heaving such 
deep and mournful sighs that they seemed torn from the 
very bottom of his soul. They could also distinguish words, 
uttered in a soft, soothing tone, such as ‘‘O my Lady 
Dulcinea del Toboso! perfection of all beauty, quintessence 
of discretion, treasury of wit, and pledge^ of modesty! what 
may now be thy sweet employment? Art thou, perad venture, 
thinking of thy captive knight, who voluntarily exposes 
himself to so many perils for thy sake? O thou moon, bring 
me swift tidings of her! Perhaps thou art now gazing at her, 
envious of her beauty, as she walks through some gallery of 
her sumptuous palace, or leans over some balcony, considering 
how she may, without offence to her dignity, assuage the 
torment which this poor afflicted heart of mine endures for 
her, or meditating on what glory she shall bestow on my 
sufferings, what solace to my cares, or recompense to my long 
services! And thou, O sun! who must now be preparing to 
harness thy steeds, to come forth and visit my adorable lady, 
salute her, I entreat thee, in my name; but beware thou 
dost not kiss her face, for I shall be more than jealous of thee. ’’ 

Thus far Don Quixote had proceeded in his soliloquy, 
when the innkeeper’s daughter softly called to him, saying, 
“Pray, sir, come a little this way.” 

Don Quixote turned his head, and perceiving by the light 
of the moon, which then shone bright, that some person 
beckoned him towards the spike-hole, which to his fancy was 
a window with gilded bars, suitable to the rich castle he 
conceived the inn to be; and his former visions again recurring, 

[ 206 ] 


THE ADVENTURES OF DON QUIXOTE 


he concluded that the fair damsel of the castle, irresistibly 
in love with him, had now come to repeat her visit. Unwilling, 
therefore, to appear discourteous or ungrateful, he approached 
the aperture, and replied, '‘I lament, fair lady, that you 
should have placed your affections where it is impossible for 
you to meet with that return which your great merit and 
beauty deserve; yet ought you not to blame an unfortunate 
knight whom love has already enthralled. Pardon me, 
dear lady; retire, and do not by any further disclosure of your 
sentiments make me appear yet more ungrateful; but if I 
can repay you by any other way than a return of love, I 
entreat that you will command me; and I swear, by that 
sweet absent enemy of mine, to gratify you immediately, 
though you should require a lock of Medusa’s hair, which was 
composed of snakes, or the sunbeams enclosed in a phial.” 

“Sir,” quoth the maid, ‘^my lady wants none of these.” 

“What then doth your lady require, discreet duenna.^^” 
answered Don Quixote. 

“Only one of your beautiful hands,” quoth Maritornes, 
“whereby partly to satisfy that longing which brought her 
to this window, so much to the peril of her, that if her lord 
and father should know of it he would whip off at least one 
of her ears.” 

“Let him dare to do it!” cried Don Quixote; “fatal should 
be his punishment.” 

The maid not doubting that he would grant the lady’s 
request, hastened down into the stable, and brought back 
the halter belonging to Sancho’s Dapple, just as Don Quixote 
had got upon Rozinante’s saddle to reach the gilded window 
[ 207 ] 


THE ADVENTURES OF DON QUIXOTE 


at which the damsel stood; and giving her his hand, he said: 
“Accept, madam, this hand, or, rather this scourge of the 
wicked: accept, I say, this hand, which that of woman never 
before touched, not even hers who has the entire right of my 
whole person. I offer it not to be kissed, but that you may 
behold the contexture of its nerves, the firm knitting of its 
muscles, the largeness and spaciousness of its veins, whence 
you may infer what must be the strength of that arm which 
belongs to such a hand.” 

“We shall soon see that,” quoth the maid, Mari tomes. 

Then, making a running-knot in the halter, she fixed it 
on his wrist, and tied the other end of it fast to the staple 
of the hay-loft door. 

Don Quixote, feeling the harsh rope about his wrist, said, 
“You seem rather to rasp than grasp my hand: pray do not 
treat it so roughly, since it is not to blame for my adverse 
inclination; nor isit just to vent your displeasure thus: indeed, 
this kind of revenge is very unworthy of a lover.” But his 
expostulations were unheard; for as soon as Mari tomes had 
tied the knot, they both went laughing away, having fastened 
it in such a manner that it was impossible for him to get loose. 

Thus he remained standing upright on Rozinante, his hand 
close to the hole, and tied by the wrist to the bolt of the door, 
and in the utmost alarm lest Rozinante should move on either 
side, and leave him suspended. He durst not, therefore make 
the least motion; though, indeed, he might well have expected, 
from the sobriety and patience of Rozinante, that he would 
remain in that position an entire centimy. In short, Don 
Quixote, finding himself thus situated and the ladies gone, 
[ 208 ] 


THE ADVENTURES OF DON QUIXOTE 

concluded tjiat it was an affair of enchantment, like others 
which had formerly happened to him in the same castle. He 
was angry with himself for having entered it a second time, 
since he might have learnt from his chivalry that when a knight 
was unsuccessful in an adventure, it was a sign that its accom- 
plishment was reserved for another, and that second trials were 
always fruitless. 

He made many attempts to release himself, though he was 
afraid of making any great exertion, lest Rozinante should stir; 
but his efforts were all in vain, and he was compelled either to 
remain standing on the saddle or to tear off his hand. Now he 
wished for Amadis’s sword, against which no enchantment had 
power, and now he cursed his fortune. Sometimes he 
expatiated on the loss the world would sustain during the 
period of his enchantment; other moments were devoted to 
his beloved Dulcinea del Toboso; and some to his good squire 
Sancho Panza, who, stretched on his ass’s pannel and buried 
in sleep, was dreaming of no such misfortune. Thus the 
morning found him, roaring like a bull with despair; for he 
expected no relief with the dawn, fearing his enchantment was 
eternal; and he was the more induced to believe it, as Rozi- 
nante made not the least motion; and he verily thought him- 
self and his horse must remain in the same posture, without 
eating, drinking, or sleeping, until the evil influence of the 
stars had passed over, or some more powerful sage diould 
disenchant him. 

But he was mistaken; for it was scarcely daylight, when 
four men on horseback stopped at the inn, well appointed and 
accoutred, with carbines hanging on their saddle-bows. Not 
[ 209 ] 


THE ADVENTURES OF DON QUIXOTE 


finding the inn-door open, they called aloud and knocked very 
hard, upon which Don Quixote called out from the place where 
he stood sentinel, in an arrogant and loud voice, ‘‘ Knights, or 
squires, or whatever ye are, desist from knocking at the gate 
of this castle; for at this early hour its inmates are doubtless 
sleeping — at least they are not accustomed to open the gates 
of their fortress until the sun has spread his beams over the 
whole horizon. Retire until brighter daylight shall inform us 
whether it be proper to admit you or not. ” 

‘‘What fortress or castle is this,” quoth one of them, “that 
we are to observe all this ceremony.^ If you are the innkeeper, 
make somebody open the door, for we are travellers, and only 
want to bait our horses and go on, as we are in haste. ” 

“What say ye, sirs! — do I look like an innkeeper.^” said 
Don Quixote. 

“I know not what you look like,” answered the other; 
“but I am sure you talk preposterously to call this inn a 
castle. ” 

“A castle it is,” replied Don Quixote, “and one of the best 
in the whole province; and at this moment contains within 
its walls persons who have had crowns on their heads and 
sceptres in their hands. ” 

“You had better have said the reverse,” quoth the travel- 
lers; “the sceptre on the head, and the crown in the hand. 
But perhaps some company of strolling players are here, who 
frequently wear such things: this is not a place for any other 
sort of crowned heads. ” 

“Your ignorance must be great,” replied Don Quixote, “if 
you know not that such events are very common in chivalry. ” 
[ 210 ] 


THE ADVENTURES OF DON QUIXOTE 


The other horseman, impatient at the dialogue, repeated 
his knocks with so much violence that he roused not only the 
host, but all the company in the house. 

Just at that time it happened that the horse of one of the 
travellers was seized with an inclination to smell at Rozi- 
nante, who, sad and spiritless, was then supporting his dis- 
tended lord; but, being in fact a horse of flesh, although he 
seemed to be one of stone, he could not be insensible to the 
compliment, nor refuse to return it with equal kindness. But 
scarcely had he stirred a step, when Don Quixote’s feet slipped 
from the saddle, and he remained suspended by the arm, in so 
much torture that he fancied his wrist or his arm was tearing 
from his body. 


[ 211 ] 


CHAPTER XXIII 


FURTHER EXTRAORDINARY ADVENTURES 
IN THE INN 

E xerting his lungs to the utmost, Don Quixote 
roared so loudly that the host opened the inn- 
door, in great alarm, to discover the cause of the 
outcry. Maritbrnes, being awakened by the noise, and 
guessing the cause, went to the straw-loft and privately untied 
the halter which held up Don Quixote, who immediately 
came to the ground. Without answering a word to the many 
inquiries that were made to him by the innkeeper and travel- 
lers, he slipped the rope from off his wrist, and springing from 
the earth, mounted Rozinante, braced his target, couched his 
lance, and taking a good compass about the field, came up at 
a half gallop, saying, “Whoever shall dare t5o affirm that I 
was fairly enchanted, I say he lies; and provided my sovereign 
lady, the Princess Micomiconia, gives me leave, I challenge 
him to single combat.” 

The newcomers were amazed at Don Quixote’s words, 
till the innkeeper explained the wonder, by telling them that 
he was disordered in his senses. 

Don Quixote, finding that the four travellers regarded 
neither him nor his challenge, was furious with rage; and, 
[ 212 ] 


THE ADVENTURES OF DON QUIXOTE 

could he have found a precedent among the ordinances of 
chivalry for engaging in a new adventure after he had pledged 
his word to forbear until the first had been accomplished, he 
would now have fiercely attacked them all, and compelled 
them to reply; but reflecting that he was boimd in honor 
first to reinstate the princess on her throne, he endeavored to 
tranquillize himself. 

Now a great uproar was heard at the inn-door, which was 
occasioned by two guests who had lodged there that night, 
and who, seeing everybody engaged, had attempted to go off 
without paying their reckoning; but the host, being more 
attentive to his own business than to that of other people, 
laid hold of them as they were going out of the door, and 
demanded his money, giving them such hard words for their 
evil intention, that they were provoked to return him an 
answer with their fists, and so much to the purpose that the 
poor innkeeper was forced to call for help. 

The hostess and her daughter seeing none more proper 
to give him succor than Don Quixote, applied to him. “Sir 
Knight,” said the daughter, “I beseech you, by your valor, 
to come and help my poor father, whom a couple of wicked 
fellows are beating without mercy.” 

Don Quixote, very leisurely and with much courtesy, 
replied, “Fair maiden, your petition cannot be granted at 
present, because I am incapacitated from engaging in any 
other adventure until I have accomplished one for which my 
word is already plighted; all that I can do in your service is 
to advise you to go and desire your father to maintain the 
fight as well as he can, and by no means allow himself to be 
[ 21S ] 


THE ADVENTURES OF DON QUIXOTE 


vanquished; in the meantime I will request permission of the 
Princess Micomiconia to relieve him in his distress, the which 
if she grant me, rest assured I will forthwith deliver him. ” 

‘‘As I am a sinner,” quoth Maritornes who was present, 
“before your worship can do all that, my master may be gone 
into another world.” 

“Suffer me, madam, to obtain that permission,” answered 
Don Quixote; “and if I procure it, it matters not though he 
be in the other world; for thence would I liberate him, in spite 
of the other world itself — or at least I will take such ample 
revenge on those who sent him hither, that you shall be 
entirely satisfied.” 

Then without saying another word, he approached Doro- 
thea, and throwing himself on his knees before her, in chival- 
rous terms he entreated that her grandeur would vouchsafe 
to give him leave to succor the governor of the castle, who was 
in grievous distress. The princess very graciously consented; 
when, bracing on his tjarget and drawing his sword, he pro- 
ceeded to the inn door, where the two guests were still mal- 
treating the poor host; but before he came there, he suddenly 
stopped short and stood irresolute, though Maritornes and 
the hostess asked him why he delayed helping their master. 

“I delay,” said Don Quixote, “because it is not lawful for 
me to draw my sword against plebeians; but call hither my 
squire, Sancho Panza, for to him doth this matter more 
properly belong.” 

In the meantime the conflict at the door of the inn con- 
tinued without intermission, very much to the disadvantage 
of the innkeeper, and the rage of Maritornes, the hostess, and 
[ 214 ] 


THE ADVENTURES OF DON QUIXOTE 


her daughter, who were ready to run di^racted to see the 
cowardice of Don Quixote, and the injury done to their lord 
and master. 

But the innkeeper and his guests at last made peace, more 
through the persuasions and arguments of Don Quixote than 
his threats; and the reckoning was paid. At this time the 
very barber entered the inn who had been deprived of Mam- 
brino’s helmet by Don Quixote, and of the trappings of his ass 
by Sancho Panza; and as he was leading his beast to tiie 
stable he espied Sancho Panza; who at that moment was 
repairing something about the selfsame pannel. He instantly 
fell upon him with fury. 

“Ah, thief!” said he, “have I got you at last.^^ Give me 
my basin and my pannel, with ajl the furnittire you stole from 
me!” 

Sancho finding himself thus suddenly attacked and abused, 
secured the pannel with one hand, and with the other made 
the barber such a return that his mouth was bathed in blood. 
Nevertheless, the barber would not let go his hold, but raised 
his voice so high that he drew everybody around him, while 
he called out: 

“Justice, in the king’s name! This rogue and highway 
robber here would murder me for endeavoring to recover my 
own goods. ” 

“You lie!” answered Sancho: “I am no highway robber, 
my master, Don Quixote, won these spoils in fair war. 

Don Quixote was now present, and not a little pleased to see 
how well his squire acted both on the offensive and defensive; 
and regarding him thenceforward as a man of mettle, he 
[ 215 ] 


THE ADVENTURES OF DON QUIXOTE 


resolved in his mind to dub him a knight the first opportunity 
that offered, thinking the order of chivalry would be well 
bestowed upon him. 

During this contest the barber made many protestations. 

Gentlemen, ” said he, ‘‘ tjiis pannel is certainly mine. I 
know it as well as if it were made by myself; and yonder 
stands my ass in the stable, who will not suffer me to lie — 
pray do but try it, and if it does not fit him to a hair, let me 
be infamous; and moreover, the very day they took this from 
me, they robbed me likewise of a new brass basin, never 
handled, that cost me a crown. ” 

Here Don Quixote could not forbear interposing; and 
separating the two combatants, he made them lay down the 
pannel on the ground to public view, until the truth should 
be decided. 

“The error of this honest squire,” said he, “is manifest, 
in calling that a basin which was, is, and ever shall be, Mam- 
brino’s helmet — that helmet which I won in fair war, and am 
therefore its right and lawful possessor. With regard to the 
pannel, I decline any interference; all I can say is, that my 
squire Sancho asked my permission to take the trappings 
belonging to the horse of this conquered coward, to adorn his 
own withal. I gave him leave — he took them, and if from 
horse trappings they are metamorphosed into an ass’s pannel, 
I have no other reasons to give than that these transforma- 
tions are frequent in affairs of chivalry. In confirmation of 
what I say, go, Sancho, and bring hither the helmet which this 
honest man terms a basin. ” 

“In faith, sir,” quoth Sancho, “if we have no better proof 

[ 216 ] 


THE ADVENTURES OF DON QUIXOTE 


than that your worship speaks of, Mambrino’s helmet will 
prove as errant a basin as the honest man’s trappings are a 
packsaddle. ” 

‘‘Do what I command,” replied Don Quixote; “for surely 
all things in this castle cannot be governed by enchantment. ” 
Sancho went for the basin, and retm*ning with it, he gave 
it to Don Quixote. 

“Only behold, gentlemen!” said he: “how can this sqLuire 
have the face to declare that this is a basin, and not the helmet 
which I have described to you.^ By the order of knighthood 
which I profess, I swear that this very helmet is the same which 
1 1X)ok from him without addition or diminution. ” 

“There is no doubt of that,” quoth Sancho; “for from 
the time my master won it, until now, he has fought but one 
battle in it, which was when he freed those unlucky galley- 
slaves; and had it not been for that same basin-helmet he 
would not have got off so well from the showers of stones 
which rained upon him in that skirmish.” 


[ 217 ] 


CHAPTER XXIV 


THE DISPUTE CONCERNING MAMBRINO’S 
HELMET AND THE PANNED IS DECIDED 

G ood sirs,” quotli \he barber, ‘‘hear what Ijhese 
gentlefolks say! They will have it that this is no 
basin, but a helmet!” 

“Aye,” said Don Quixote, “and whoever shall affirm the 
contrary, I will convince him, if he be a knight, that he lies; 
and if a squire, that he lies and lies again, a thousand times.” 

Our barber. Master Nicholas, who was present, wishing to 
carry on the jest for the amusement of the company, addressed 
himself to the other barber, and ^aid, “Signor Barber, or who- 
ever you are, know that I also am of yom profession, and have 
had my certificate of examination above these twenty years, 
and am well acquainted with all the instruments of barber 
surgery, without exception. I have likewise been a soldier 
in my youth and therefore know what a helmet is, and what 
a morion or cap of steel is, as well as a casque with its beaver, 
and other matters relating to soldiery — I mean to the arms 
commonly used by soldiers. And I say, with submission 
always to better judgments, that the piece before us, which 
that gentleman holds in his hand, not only is not a barber’s 
basin, but is as far from being so as white is from black, and 
[ 218 ] 


THE ADVENTURES OF DON QUIXOTE 

trutli from falsehood. At the same time, I say that, although 
it be a helmet, it is not a complete helmet. ” 

“Cerl»,inly not,” said Don Quixote; “for one-half of it 
is wanting, namely, the beaver.” 

Undoubtedly, said the priest, who perceived his friend 
the barber’s design; and Cardenio, Don Fernando, and his 
companions all confirmed the same. 

“Mercy on me!” quoth \he astonished barber, “how is it 
possible that so many honorable gentlemen should maintain 
that this is not a basin, but a helmet.^^ This would be enough 
to astonish a whole imiversity, be it ever so wise. Well, if 
the basin be a helmet, then the pannel must needs be a horse’s 
furniture, as the gentleman has said. ” 

“To me, indeed, it seems to be a pannel,” said Don 
Quixote; “but I have already told you I will not interfere on 
that subject.” 

“Whether it be the pannel of an ass, or the caparison of 
a horse,” said the priest, “must be left to the decision of 
Signor Don Quixote; for in matters of chivalry all these gentle- 
men and myself submit to his judgment.” “Gentlemen,’^ 
said Don Quixote, “such extraordinary things have befallen 
me in this castle, that I dare not vouch for the certainty of 
anything that it may contain; for I very believe that all is 
conducted by the powers of enchantment. During my first 
visit, I was tormented by an enchanted Moor, while Sancho 
fared no better among some of his followers; and this night I 
have been suspended for nearly two hours by my arm, without 
knowing either the means or the cause of my persecution; it 
would be rash in me, therefore, to give my opinion in an affair 
[ 219 ] 


THE ADVENTURES OF DON QUIXOTE 


of so much perplexity. As to the question whether this be a 
basin or a helmet, I have already answered: but with regard 
to the pannel, gentlemen, not daring myself to pronounce a 
definitive sentence, I refer it to your wisdom to decide. Per- 
haps, as you are not knights-errant, the enchantments of this 
place may not have the same power over you; and, your under- 
standings remaining free, you may judge of things as Hiey 
really are, and not as they appear to me. ” 

“There is no doubt,” answered Don Fernando, “that 
Signor Don Quixote is right in leaving the decision of this case 
to us; and that we may proceed in it upon solid grounds, I 
will take the votes of these gentlemen in secret, and then give 
you a clear and full account of the result.” 

To those acquainted with Don Quixote, all this was choice 
entertainment; while to others it seemed the height of folly. 
As for the barber, he was quite raving to see his basin con- 
verted into Mambrino’s helmet before his eyes, and he made 
no doubt that his pannel would undergo a like transformation. 
It was diverting to see Don Fernando walking round and 
taking the opinion of each person at his ear, whether that 
precious object of contention was a pannel or caparison; 
and after he had taken the votes of all those who knew Don 
Quixote, he ^aid aloud to the barber, “In truth, honest friend, 
I am weary of collecting votes; for I propose the question to 
nobody who does not say in reply, that it is quite ridiculous to 
assert that this is an ass’s pannel, and not the caparison of a 
horse, and even of a well-bred horse; and as you have given 
us no proofs to the contrary, you must have patience and sub- 
mit; for in spite of both you and your ass, this is no pannel. ” 
[ 220 ] 


THE ADVENTURES OP DON QUIXOTE 

Let me never go to heaven!’’ exclauned the barber, 
your worships are not all mistaken. I say no more. ” 

The barber’s simplicity caused no less merriment than the 
vagaries of the knight, who now said, ‘‘As sentence is passed, 
let each take his own. One of the officers of justice had over- 
heard the dispute and cried out, full of indignation, “It is as 
surely a pannel as my father is my father; and whoever says, 
or shall say, to the contrary must be drunk. ” 

“You lie like a pitiful scoundrel!” answered Don Quixote; 
and lifting up his lance, which was still in his hand, he aimed 
such a blow at the trooper, that had he not slipped aside he 
would have been levelled to the ground. The lance came down 
with such fury that it was shivered to pieces. 

The innkeeper ran instantly for his wand and sword, to 
support the officers. The barber perceiving the house turned 
topsy-turvey, laid hold again of his pannel, and Sancho did 
the same. Don Quixote drew his sword, and fell upon the 
troopers. The priest cried out, the hostess shrieked, her 
daughter wept, Maritornes roared, Dorothea was alarmed, 
Lucinda stood amazed, and fainted away. The barber cuffed 
Sancho, and pummelled the barber. Don Fernando got one 
of the troopers down, and laid on his blows most unmercifully; 
while the innkeeper bawled aloud for help: thus was the whole 
inn filled with cries, wailings, and shrieks, dismay, confusion, 
and terror, kicks, cudgellings, and effusion of blood. In the 
midst of this chaos Don Quixote suddenly conceived that he was 
involved over head and ears, and he called out in a voice which 
made the whole inn shake, “Hold all of you! Put up your 
swords! Be pacified, and listen all to me, if ye would live!” 

[221 ] 


THE ADVENTURES OF DON QUIXOTE 


His vehemence made them desist, and he went on, saying, 
‘‘Did I not tell you, sirs, that this castle was enchanted, and 
that some legion of devils must inhabit it? Behold the con- 
firmation of what I said! Mark with your own eyes how 
discord is amongst us ! — there they fight for the sword, here 
for the horse, yonder for the eagle, here again for the helmet; 
we all fight, and no one understands another. Let, then, 
the priest come forward and restore us to peace; for it 
were most disgraceful and iniquitous that so many gentle- 
men of our rank should slay each other for such trivial 
matters. ” 

The troopers not understanding Don Quixote’s language, 
and finding themselves still roughly handled by Don Fernando, 
Cardenio, and their companions, would not be pacified; but 
the barber submitted, for both his beard and his pannel were 
demolished in the scuffle; and Sancho, like a dutiful servant, 
obeyed the least word of his master. The innkeeper, still 
refractory, insisted that the insolence of that madman ought 
to be chastised, who was continually turning his house upside 
down. At length the tumult subsided; the pannel was to 
remain a caparison, and the basin a helmet, and the inn a 
castle, at least in Don Quixote’s imagination, until the Day 
of Judgment. 

But the enemy of peace and concord, finding himself 
foiled and disappointed in the scanty produce of so promising 
a field, resolved to try his fortune once more, by contriving new 
frays and disturbances. The offlcers on hearing the quality 
of their opponents, retreated from the fray, thinking that, 
whatever might be the issue, they were likely be losers. But 


THE ADVENTURES OF DON QUIXOTE 

one of this body happened to recollect that among other 
warrants in his possession he had one against Don Quixote, 
whom his superiors had ordered to be taken into custody for 
releasing galley-slaves: thus confirming Sancho’s just appre- 
hensions. In order to examine whether the person of Don 
Quixote answered the description, he drew forth a parchment 
scroll from his doublet, and began to read it slowly (for he 
was not much of a scholar), ever and anon as he proceeded 
fixing his eyes on Don Quixote, comparing the marks in his 
warrant with the lines of his physiognomy. Finding them 
exactly to correspond, and being convinced that he was the 
very person therein described, he held out the warrant in his 
left hand, while with his right he seized Don Quixote by the 
collar, with so powerful a grasp as almost to strangle him, at 
the s'ame time crying aloud, 

‘‘Help, and that you may see I require it in earnest, read 
this warrant, wherein it is expressly ordered that this highway 
robber should be apprehended.” 

The priest took the warrant and found what the trooper 
said was true, the description exactly corresponding with the 
person of Don Quixote. The knight, finding himself so 
rudely handled by this scoundrel, was exasperated to the 
highest pitch, and trembling with rage, caught the trooper by 
the throat with both hands; and had he not been immediately 
rescued by his comrades, he would certainly have been 
strangled before Don Quixote had loosed his hold. The inn- 
keeper, who was bound to aid, ran instantly to help him. 
The hostess, seeing her husband again engaged in battle, 
again exalted her voice; her daughter and Maritornes added 
[ 223 ] 


THE ADVENTURES OF DON QUIXOTE 


their pipes to the same tune, calling upon Heaven and all 
around them for assistance. 

“Methinks!” exclaimed Sancho, ‘‘what my master says 
is true about the enchantments of this castle; for it is impos- 
sible to live an hour quietly in it. ” 

Don Fernando at length partied the oflScer and Don 
Quixote; and, to the satisfaction of both, unlocked their hands 
from the doublet collar of the one, and from the windpipe of 
the other. Nevertheless, the troopers persisted in claiming 
their prisoner; declaring that the king’s service required it; 
and in whose name they again demanded help and assistance 
in apprehending that common robber and highway thief. 

Don Quixote smiled at these expressions, and with great 
calmness said, “Come hither, base and ill-born crew: call ye 
it robbing on the highway to loosen the chains of the captive 
to set the prisoner free, to succor the oppressed, to raise the 
fallen, and relieve the needy and wretched? Ah, scoundrel 
race! undeserving, by the meanness and baseness of your 
understandings, that Heaven should reveal to you the worth 
inherent in knightnerrantlry, or make you sensible of your own 
sin and ignorance in not revering the shadow — much more 
the presence — of any knight-errant! Tell me, ye rogues in a 
troop! — not troopers, but highway marauders under license 
— tell me, who was the blockhead that signed the warrant for 
apprehending such a knight as I am? Who was he that knew 
not that knights-errant are exempt from all judicial authority, 
that their sword is their law, valor their privilege, and their 
own will their edicts? Who was the madman, I say again, who 
knew not that there is no patent of gentility which contains 
[ 224 ] 


THE ADVENTURES OF DON QUIXOTE 


so many privileges and exemptions as are required by the 
knight-errant on the day he devotes himself to the rigorous 
exercise of chivalry? What knight-errant ever paid custom, 
tax, subsidy, rent, porterage or ferryboat? What tailor ever 
brought in a bill for making his clothes? What governor that 
lodged him in his castle ever made him pay for his entertain- 
ment? What king did not seat him at his table? Finally, 
what knight-errant ever did or shall exist, who has not cour- 
age, with his single arm, to bestow a hundred blows on any 
four hundred troopers who shall dare to oppose him?” 

Thus eloquently did Don Quixote harangue the officers, 
while at the same time the priest endeavored to persuade them 
that since the knight, as they might easily perceive, was 
deranged in his mind, it was useless for them to proceed further 
in the affair; for if they were to apprehend him, he would soon 
be released as insane. But the trooper only said in answer 
that it was not his business to judge of the state of Don 
Quixote’s intellect, but to obey the order of his superiors; 
and that when he had once secured him, they might set him 
free as often as they pleased. 

“Indeed,” said the priest# “you must forbear this once; 
nor do I think that he will suffer himself to be taken. ” 

In fact, the priest said so much, and Don Quixote acted 
so extravagantly, that the officers would have been more 
crazy than himself had they not desisted after such evidence 
of his infirmity. They judged it best, therefore, to be quiet, 
and endeavor to make peace between the barber and Sancho 
Panza, who still continued their* scuffie with great rancor. As 
officers of justice, therefore, they compounded the matter, and 
[ 225 ] 


THE ADVENTURES OF DON QUIXOTE 


pronounced such a decision that, if both parties were not 
perfectly contented, at least they were in some degree satisfied; 
it being settled that they should exchange pannels, but neither 
girths nor halters. As for Mambrino’s helmet, the priest, 
unknown to Don Quixote, paid the barber eight reals, for which 
he received a discharge in full, acquitting him of all fraud 
thenceforth and for evermore. 


[ 226 ] 


CHAPTER XXV 


FURTHER ADVENTURES OF THE GOOD KNIGHT 

T hus were these mipx)rtaiit contests decided, and 
fortune seemed to smile on all the heroes and 
heroines of the inn. The innkeeper, observing the 
recompense the priest had made the barber, claimed also 
the payment of his demands upon Don Quixote, with ample 
satisfaction for the damage done and swore that neither 
Rozinante nor the ass should stir out of the inn until he had 
been paid the uttermost farthing. The pjiest, however, 
endeavored to soothe him; and, what was more, Don Fer- 
nando settled the knight’s account, although the judge would 
fain have taken the debt upon himself. Peace, therefore, was 
entirely restored. 

Don Quixote, now finding himself disengaged, thought it 
was time to pursue his journey, and accomplish the grand 
enterprise for which he had been elected. Accordingly, he 
approached the princess, and threw himself upon his knees 
before her; but she would not listen to him in that posture; 
and therefore, in obedience to her, he arose, and thus addressed 
her: “Most exalted lady, because our abode in this castle 
seems no longer necessary, and may, indeed, be prejudicial; 
for who knows but your enemy the giant may, by secret spies, 
get intelligence of my approach, and* thus gain time to fortify 
[ 227 ] 


THE ADVENTURES OF DON QUIXOTE 


himself in some impregnable fortress, against which my vigi- 
lance and the force of my indefatigable arm may be ineffectual? 
Therefore, sovereign lady, that his designs may be prevented 
by our diligence, let us depart quickly, in the name of that 
good fortune which will be yours the moment I come face to 
face with your enemy.” 

Here Don Quixote was silent, and with dignified composure 
awaited the answer of the beautiful Princess, who, with an 
air of majesty, and in a style corresponding with that of her 
knight, thus replied: “I am obliged to you. Sir Knight, for the 
zeal you testify in my cause, so worthy of a true knight whose 
office and employment it is to succor the orphan and dis- 
tressed. As to my departure, let it be instantly; for I have 
no other will but yours. Dispose of me entirely at yom* 
pleasme; for she who has committed the defence of her 
person and the restoration of her dominions into your hands 
must not oppose what your wisdom shall direct. ” 

“I will not lose the opportunity of exalting a lady who 
thus humbleth herself,” exclaimed Don Quixote. “I will 
replace her on the throne of her ancestors. Let us depart 
immediately, for the ardor of my zeal makes me impatient; 
nor hath Heaven created nor earth seen aught of danger 
that can daunt or affright me. Sancho, let Rozinante be 
saddled; get ready thine own beast, and also her majesty’s 
palfrey: and let us take our leave of the governor of the 
castle and these nobles, that we may set forth instantly.” 

Sancho, who had been present all the time, shook his head, 
saying, “Ah, master of mine! there are more tricks in the town 
than are dreamt of; with ajl respect be it spoken.” 

[ 228 ] 


THE ADVENTURES OF DON QUIXOTE 

What tricks can there be to my prejudice in any town or 
city in the world, thou bumpkin?” said Don Quixote. 

If your worship puts yourself into a passion,” answered 
Sancho, I will hold my tongue, and not say what I am bound 
to say as a faithful squire and a dutiful servant. ” 

‘Say what thou wilt,” replied Don Quixote; “but think 
not to intimidate me, for it is thy nature to be faint-hearted — 
mine to be proof against all fear. ” 

“As I am a sinner,” answered Sancho, “I mean nothing 
of all this; I mean only that I am sure and positively certain 
this lady, who calls herself queen of the great kingdom of 
Micomicon, is no more a queen than my mother.” Doro- 
thea’s color rose at Sancho’s remark and as she could not con- 
tradict Sancho, she remained silent, and suffered him to 
continue his remarks. “I say this, sir, because, supposing 
after we have travelled through thick and thin, and passed 
many bad nights and worse days^ one who is now enjoying 
himself in this inn should chance to reap the fruit of our labors, 
there would be no use in my hastening to saddle Rozinante, 
or to get ready the ass and the palfrey; therefore we had 
better be quiet. Let us to dinner.” 

Great was the indignation of Don Quixote on hearing his 
squire speak in terms so disrespectful! It was so great that, 
with a faltering voice and stammering tongue, while living 
fire darted from his eyes, he cried, “Scoundrel! unmannerly, 
ignorant, ill-spoken, impudent, murmuring, and back-biting 
villain! how darest thou utter such words in my presence, 
and in the presence of these illustrious ladies? How darest 
thou to entertain such rude and insolent thoughts in thy con- 
[ 229 ] 


THE ADVENTURES OF DON QUIXOTE 


fused imagination? Avoid my presence, monster of nature, 
treasury of lies, magazine of deceit, storehouse of rogueries, 
inventor of mischiefs, publisher of absurdities, and foe to all 
the honor due to royalty! Begone! appear not before me on 
pain of my severest indignation!’’ And as he spoke he arched 
his eyebrows, swelled his cheeks, stared around him, and gave 
a violent stamp with his right foot on the ground; plainly 
indicating the fury that raged in his breast. 

Poor Sancho was so terrified by this storm of passion, that 
he would have been glad if the earth had opened that instant 
and swallowed him up. He knew not what to say or do; so 
he turned his back, and hastened out of the presence of his 
furious master. 

But the discreet Dorothea, perfectly imderstanding Don 
Quixote, in order to pax^ify his wrath, said, ‘‘Be not offended. 
Sir Knight of the Sorrowful Figme, at the impertinence of 
your good squire, for perhaps he has not spoken without some 
foimdation; nor can it be suspected, considering his good sense, 
that he would bear false witness against anybody; it is possible 
that since, as you affirm yourself. Sir Knight, the powers of 
enchantment prevail in this castle, Sancho may, by the same 
diabolical illusion, have seen what he has aflfirmed.” 

“I swear,” quoth Don Quixote, “your highness has hit the 
mark: — some evil apparition must have appeared to this 
sinner, and represented to him what it was impossible for him 
to see any other way; for I am perfectly assured of the sim- 
plicity and innocence of the unhappy wretch, and that he is 
incapable of slandering any person living.” 

“So it is, and so it shall be,” said Don Fernando: “there- 
[ 230 ] 


THE ADVENTURES OF DON QUIXOTE 

fore, Signor Don Quixote, you ought to pardon him and restore 
him to your favor before these illusions turn his brain. ’ 

Don Quixote having promised his forgiveness, the priest 
went for Sancho, who came in with much humility, and on 
his knees begged his master’s hand, which was given to him; 
and after he had allowed him to kiss it, he gave him his bless- 
ing, adding, “Thou wilt now, son Sancho, be thoroughly con- 
vinced of what I have often told thee, that all things in this 
castle are conducted by enchantment. ” 

“I believe so too,” quoth Sancho, “except the business of 
the blanket, which really fell out in the ordinary way. ” 

“Believe not so,” answered Don Quixote; “for in that case 
I would have revenged thee at the time, and even now; but 
neither could I then, nor can I now, find on whom to resent 
the injury.” 

To gratify the curiosity which this remark had excited, 
the innkeeper gave account of Sancho Panza’s excursion in the 
air, which, though it entertained the rest, would have dis- 
tres^d the feelings of the squire, if his master had not given 
him fresh assurances that it was all a matter of enchantment. 
However, Sancho’ s faith was never so strong but that he 
shrewdly suspected it to be a downright fact, and no illusion 
at all, that he had been tossed in a blanket by persons of 
flesh and blood, and by no visionary phantoms. 

This illustrious company had now passed two whole days 
in the inn; and thinking it time to depart, they considered 
how the priest and barber might convey the knight to his home 
without troubling Dorothea and Don Fernando to accompany 
them; and for that purpose, having first engaged a wagoner 
[231 ] 


THE ADVENTURES OF DON QUIXOTE 


who happened to pass by with his team of oxen, they pro- 
ceeded in the following manner: They formed a kind of cage, 
large enough to contain Don Quixote at his ease; then, by 
the direction of the priest, Don Fernando and his companions, 
with Don Louis’s servants, the oflBcers and the innkeeper 
covered their faces, and disguisfed themselves so as not to be 
recognized by Don Quixote. This done, they silently entered 
the room where the knight lay fast asleep, reposing after his 
late exertions, and secured him with cords; so that when he 
awoke he stared about in amazement at the strange visages 
that surrounded him, but found himself totally unable to 
move. 

His disordered imagination, operating as usual, immediately 
suggested to him that these were goblins of the enchanted 
castle, and that he was entangled in its charms, since he felt 
himself unable to stir in his owjn defense — a surmise which 
the curate, who projected the stratagem, had anticipated. 
Sancho alone was in his proper figure; and though he wanted 
but little of being infected with his master’s infirmity, yet he 
was not ignorant who all these counterfeit goblins were; but 
he thought it best to be quiet until he saw what was intended 
by this seizure and imprisonment of his master. Neither did 
the knight utter a word, but submissively awaited the issue 
of his misfortune. Having brought the cage into the chamber, 
they placed him within it, and secured it so that it was impos- 
sible he could make his escape. In this situation he was con- 
veyed out of the house; and on leaving the chamber a voice 
was heard, as dreadful as the barber could form (not he of the 
pannel, but the other), saying, ‘‘O Knight of the Sorrowful 
[ 232 ] 


THE ADVENTURES OF DON QUIXOTE 

Figure! let not thy present confinement afflict thee, since it is 
essential to the speedy accomplishment of the adventure in 
which thy great valor hath engaged thee. And thou, O the 
most noble and obedient squire that ever had sword in belt, 
beard on face, and smell in nostrils, be not dismayed nor 
afliicted to see the flower of knight-errantry carried thus away 
before thine eyes; for ere long, thou shalt see thyself so exalted 
and sublimated as not to know thyself; and thus will the 
promises of thy valorous lord be fulfilled. Be assured, more- 
over, that thy wages shall be punctually paid iiiee. Follow, 
therefore, the valorous and enchanted knight, for it is expedient 
for thee to go where ye both may find repose. More I am not 
permitted to say. I now go — I well know whither!” As 
he delivered this solemn prediction, the prophet first raised 
his voice high, then gradually lowered it to so pathetic a tone, 
that even those who were in the plot were not unmoved. 

Don Quixote was much comforted by this prophecy, quickly 
comprehending the whole significance thereof. Upon the 
strength of this conviction, he exclaimed, with a deep sigh, 
“O thou, whoever thou art, who hast prognosticated me so 
much good, I beseech thee to intercede in my behalf with 
the sage enchanter who hath charge of my affairs, that he suffer 
me not to perish in the prison wherein I am now enclosed, 
before these promises of joyful and heavenly import are ful- 
filled. Let them but come to pass, and I shall glory in the 
pains of my imprisonment, enjoy the chains with which I am 
bound, and imagine this hard couch whereon I lie a soft bed 
of down. On the affectionate attachment of my squire, 
Sancho Panza, I have too much reliance to think that he will 
[ 233 ] 


THE ADVENTURES OF DON QUIXOTE 


desert me, whatever be my fortunes; and though it should 
even happen, through his or my evil destiny, that I were 
unable to give him the island, or something equivalent, accord- 
ing to my promise, at least he shall not lose his salary; for 
in my will, which is already made, I have settled that point; 
not, indeed, proportionate to his many and good services, but 
according to my own ability.” 

Sancho Panza bowed with great respect, and kissed both 
his master’s hands; for one alone he could not, as they were 
both tied together. The goblins then took the cage on their 
shoulders, and placed it on the wagon. 

The knight and squire were discoursing together when 
Don Fernando and Cardenio, fearing lest Sancho should see 
into the whole of their plot, being already not far from it, 
resolved to hasten their departure; and, calling the innkeeper 
aside, they ordered him to saddle Rozinante and pannel the 
ass, which he did with great expedition. In the meanwhile 
the priest engaged to pay the troopers to accompany Don 
Quixote home to his village. Cardenio fastened the buckler 
on one side of the pommel of Rozinante’s saddle, and the basin 
on the other; then, after placing the two troopers with their 
carbines on each side of the wagon, he made signs to Sancho to 
mount his ass, and lead Rozinante by the bridle. But before 
the car moved forward, the hostess, her daughter, and Mari- 
tornes came out to take their leave of Don Quixote, pretending 
to shed tears for grief at his misfortune. 

“Weep not, my good ladies,” said the knight, “for dis- 
asters of this kind are incident to those of my profession; and 
if such calamities did not befall me, I should not account 
[ 234 ] 


THE ADVENTURES OF DON QUIXOTE 

myself a distinguished knight-errant; for these events never 
occur to the ignoble, but to those whose valor and virtue excite 
the envy of princes and knights, who seek by evil machinations 
to defame whatever is praiseworthy and good. I beseech 
you to pray Heaven for n^ deliverance from my present 
thraldom; and if ever I find myself at liberty, I shall not 
forget the favors you have done me in this castle, but shall 
acknowledge and requite them as they deserve. ” 

While this passed between the ladies of the castle and Don 
Quixote, the priest and the barber took their leave of Don 
Fernando and his companions, the captain, and of all the 
ladies, now supremely happy. Don Fernando requested the 
priest to give him intelligence of Don Quixote, assuring him 
that nothing would afford him more satisfaction than to hear of 
his future proceedings. 

The cavalcade was arranged in the following order: In 
front was the car, guided by the owner, and on each side the 
troopers with their matchlocks; then came Sancho upon his 
ass, leading Rozinante by the bridle; and in the rear the priest 
and his friend Nicholas, mounted on their stately mules; and 
thus the whole moved on with great solemnity, regulated by 
the slow pace of the oxen. Don Quixote sat in the cage, with 
his hands tied and his legs stretched out, leaning against the 
bars as silently and patiently as if he had been not a man of 
flesh and blood, but a statue of stone. In this manner they 
travelled about. 

At the end of six days tiey reached Don Quixote’s village. 
It was about noon when they made their entrance; and, 
it being Sunday, all the people were standing about the market- 
[ 235 ] 


THE ADVENTURES OF DON QUIXOTE 


place, through which the wagon piassed. Everybody ran to 
see who was in it, and were not a little surprised when they 
recognized their townsman; and a boy ran off at full speed 
with tidings to the housekeeper that he was coming home, 
lean and pale, stretched out at length in a wagon drawn by 
oxen. On hearing this, the two good women made the most 
pathetic lamentations, and renewed their curses against books 
of chivalry; especially when they saw the poor knight entering 
the gate. 

Upon tiie news of Don Quixote’s arrival, Sancho Panza’s 
wife repaired thither, and on meeting him, her first inquiry was 
whether the ass had come home well. Sancho told her that 
he was in a better condition than his master. 

“The Lord be praised,” replied she, “for so great a mercy 
to me. But tell me, husband, what good have you got by 
your squireship.f^ Have you brought a petticoat home for 
me, and shoes for your children 

“I have brought you nothing of that sort, dear wife,” 
quoth Sancho; “but I have got other things of greater con- 
sequence. ” 

“I am very glad of that,” answered the wife: “pray show 
me your things of greater consequence, friend, for I would 
fain see them, to gladden my heart, which has been so sad all 
the long time you have been away.” 

“You shall see them at home, wife,” quoth Sancho, “and 
be satisfied at present; for if we make another sally in quest 
of adventures, you will soon see me an earl or governor of 
an island, and no common one either, but one of the best that 
is to be had.” 


[ 236 ] 


THE ADVENTURES OF DON QUIXOTE 

Heaven grant it may be so, husband,” quoth the wife, 
"‘for we have need enough of it. But pray tell me what you 
mean by islands, for I do not understand you.” “Honey is 
not for the mouth of an ass,” answered Sancho: “in good 
time, wife, you shall see, yea, and admire to hear yourseK 
styled ‘ladyship’ by all your vassals.” 

“What do you mean, Sancho, by ladyship, islands, and 
vassals?” answered Teresa Panza, for that was the name of 
Sancho’s wife. “Do not be in so much haste, Teresa,” said 
Sancho; “it is enough that I tell you what is true, so lock up 
your mouth; only take this by the way, that there is nothing 
in the world so pleasant as to be an honorable esquire to a 
knight-errant and seeker of adventures. To be sure, most 
of them are not so much to a man’s mind as he could wish; for, 
as I know by experience, ninety-nine out of a hundred fall 
out cross and unlucky; especially when one happens to be 
tossed in a blanket, or well cudgelled; yet, for all that, it is a 
fine thing to go about in expectation of accidents, traversing 
mountains, searching woods, marching over rocks, visiting in 
cas^tles, lodging in inns, all at pleasure, and nothing to pay. ” 


[ 237 ] 


CHAPTER XXVI 


THE NOTABLE QUARREL BETWEEN SANCHO 
PANZA AND DON QUIXOTE’S NIECE AND 
HOUSEICEEPER 

OOKING out of the window one day shortly after 



these pleasant occurrences, Don Quixote, the priest. 


and the barber saw the niece and housekeeper 
engaged in defending the door against Sancho Panza, who had 
come to pay his master a visit. 

“Fellow, get home!” said one of them, “what have you 
to do here? It is by you our master is led astray, and carried 
rambling about the country like a vagabond.” “It is I that 
am led astray,” retorted Sancho, “and carried rambling up 
and down the highways; and it was your master that led me 
this dance — so there you are quite mistaken. He tempted 
me from home with promises of an island, which I still hope 


for. ’ 


“May the islands choke thee, wretch!” answered the 
niece; “and pray what are islands? Are they anything 
eatable?” 

“They are not to be eaten,” replied Sancho, “but gov- 
erned; and are better things than any four cities, or four 
justiceships at court.” 


[238 ] 


THE ADVENTURES OF DON QUIXOTE 

For all that, said the housekeeper, *^you shall not come 
in here, you bag of mischief and bundle of roguery! Get you 
home, and govern there; go, plough and cart, and do not 
trouble your silly pate about islands!” 

Sancho entered, and the priest and the barber took their 
leave of Don Quixote, now quite despairing of his cure, seeing 
that he was more intoxicated than ever with knight-errantry. 

‘‘You will see, neighbor,” said the curate, as they walked 
away, “our friend will soon take another flight.” 

“No doubt of it,” said the barber; “yet I think the 
credulity of the squire still more extraordinary: it seems 
impossible to drive that sanxe island out of his head.” 

“Heaven help them!” cried the priest. “However, let 
us watch their motions; the knight and the squire seem both 
to be cast in the same mould, and the madness of the one with- 
out the folly of the other would not be worth a rush.” 

“I should like to know what they are now conferring 
about,” said the barber. 

“We shall soon hear that from the niece or housekeeper,” 
replied the priest; “for, I lay my life, they will not refrain 
from listening.” 

Don Quixote having shut himself up in his chamber with 
Sancho, he said to him, “It concerns me much, Sancho, that 
thou wilt persist in saying that I enticed thee from thy home. 
How! did we not both leave our homes together, journey 
together, and were both exposed to the same fortune? If 
thou wert once tossed in a blanket, I have only had the 
advantage of thee, in being a hundred times exposed to hard 
blows.” 


THE ADVENTURES OF DON QUIXOTE 


“That is but reasonable,” answered Sancho; “for, as 
your worship says, ‘misfortunes belong more properly to 
knights-errant than to their squires. ’ ” 

Sancho went home in such high spirits that his wife 
observed his gayety a bow-shot oflf, insomuch that she could 
not help saying, “What makes you look so blithe, friend 
Sancho?” 

To which he answered, “Would to Heaven, dear wife, I 
were not so well pleased as I seem to be!” “I know not what 
you mean, husband,” replied she, “by saying you wish you 
were not so much pleased; now, silly as I am, I cannot guess 
how any one can desire not to be pleased.” 

“Look you, Teresa,” answered Sancho, “I am thus merry 
because I am about to return to the service of my master 
Don Quixote, who is going again in search after adventures, 
and I am to accompany him, for so my fate wills it. Besides, I 
am merry with the hopes of finding another hundred crowns 
like those we have spent; though it grieves me to part from 
you and my children; and if Heaven would be pleased to 
give me bread dry, dry-shod and at home, without dragging 
me over crags and cross-paths, it is plain that my joy would 
be better grounded, since it is now mingled with sorrow for 
leaving you; so that I was right in saying that I should be 
glad if it pleased Heaven I were not so well pleased.” 

“Look you, Sancho,” replied Teresa, “ever since you have 
been a knight-errant man, you talk in such a roundabout 
manner that nobody can understand you.” 

“It is enough, wife,” said Sancho, “that God understands 
me. And do you hear, wife, it behooves you to take special 
[ 240 ] 


THE ADVENTURES OF DON QUIXOTE 

care of Dapple for these three or four days to come, that he 
may be in a condition to bear arms; so double his allowance, 
and get the pack-saddle in order, and the rest of his tackling; 
for we are not going to a wedding, but to roam about the world, 
and to give and take with giants, fiery dragons, and goblins, 
and to hear hissings, roarings, bellowings, and bleatings; all 
which would be but fiowers of lavender, if we had not to do 
with Yangueses and enchanted Moors.” 

‘T believe, indeed, husband,” replied Teresa, “that your 
squires-errant do not eat their bread for nothing, and therefore 
I shall not fail to beseech Heaven to deliver you speedily 
from so much evil hap.” 

“I tell you, wife,” answered Sancho, “that, did I not 
expect ere long tD see myself governor of an island, I vow I 
should drop down dead upon the spot.” 

“Do not trouble yourself to mend my words,” answered 
Teresa; “If you hold still in the same mind of being a gov- 
ernor, take your son Sancho with you, and train him up to yoim 
calling, for it is right that sons should learn their fathers’ trade. 

“When I have a government,” quoth Sancho, “I will send 
for him by the post; and also money to you, which I shall 
have in abundance, for people are always ready enough to lend 
their money to governors; and mind you clothe the boy so 
that he may look, not like what he is, but what he will be. ” 

“Send you the money,” quoth Teresa, “and I will make 
him as fine as a palm branch. ” 

“We are agreed then,” quoth Sancho, “that our daughter 
is to be a countess?” 

“The day that I see her a countess,” answered Teresa, 
[241 ] 


THE ADVENTURES OF DON QUIXOTE 


shall reckon I am laying her in her grave; but I say again 
you muat do as you please, for to this burden women are born 
— they must obey their husbands if they are ever such block- 
heads.” And then she began to weep as bitterly as if she 
already saw little Sancho dead and buried. Sancho comforted 
her, and promised that, though he must make her a countess 
he would put it off as long as possible. Thus ended their 
dialogue, and Sancho went to pay his master another visit, 
in order to confer on the subject of their departure. 

The niece and housekeeper of Don Quixote, during the 
conversation of Sancho Panza and his wife Teresa Cascajo, 
were not idle; for they were led to suspect, from a thousand 
symptoms, that he was inclined to break loose a third time, 
and return to the exercise of his unlucky knight-errantry; and 
therefore endeavored, by all possible means, to divert him 
from his unhappy purpose; but it was all preaching in the 
desert, and hammeriug on cold iron. 

Don Quixote and Sancho were now perfectly reconciled 
and they agreed to depart within three days^ in which time 
they might have leisure tio provide what was necessary for the 
expedition, and especially a com^plete helmet, which Don 
Quixote declared to be indispensable. 

Three days were now employed in preparation, at the end 
of which time, Sancho having appeased his wife, and Don 
Quixote his niece and housekeeper, they issued forth in the 
evening, unobserved. The knight was mounted on his good 
Rozinante, and the squire on his trusty Dapple, his wallets 
stored with food and his purse with money, providentially 
supplied by his master in case of need. 

[ 242 ] 


CHAPTER XXVII 


OF THE FAMOUS ADVENTURE OF THE 
ENCHANTED BARK 

FTER travelling leisurely for two days, Don 



Quixote and his squire reached the banks of the 


river Ebro, and the knight experienced much 


pleasure while he contemplated the verdure of its margin, the 
smoothness of its current, and the abundance of its crystal 
waters. Cheered and delighted with the scene, a thousand 
tender recollections rushed upon his mind. 

Thus musing and sauntering along, they observed a small 
vessel, without oars or any kind of tackle, fastened by a rope 
to the shore. Don Quixote looked round him on all sides, and, 
seeing nobody he alighted, and ordered Sancho to do the 
same, and make fast both their beasts to the trunk of a poplar 
or willow that grew by the side of the river. 

On Sancho’s requesting to know why he was to do so, 
“Thou must know,” said Don Quixote, “that this vessel is 
placed here expressly for my reception, and in order that I 
might proceed therein to the succor of some knight or other 
person of high degree, who is in extreme distress; for such is 
the practice of enchanters, as we learn in the books of chivalry, 
when some knight happens to be involved in a situation of 


[ 243 ] 


THE ADVENTURES OF DON QUIXOTE 


extraordinary peril, from which he can only be delivered by 
the hand of another knight. Then, although distant from 
each other two or three thousand leagues, and even more, 
they either snatch him up in a cloud, or, as thus, provide him 
with a boat, and in less than the twinkling of an eye convey 
him through the air, or over the surface of the ocean, wherever 
they list, or where his aid is required. This bark, therefore, 
O Sancho, must be placed here for iJiat sole purpose, as cer- 
tainly as it is now day; haste, then, before it is spent, tie 
Dapple and Rozinante together, and the hand of Providence 
be our guide! for embark I will, although holy friars them- 
selves should entreat me to desist. ” 

“Since it must be so,” said Sancho, “and that your wor- 
ship is determined to be always running into these vagaries, 
there is nothing left for me but to obey; following the proverb 
‘do your master’s bidding, and sit down with him at his table.’ 
But for all that, to discharge my conscience, I am bound to 
tell your worship that, to my mind, this same boat belongs to 
no enchanter, but to some fisherman on this part of the river; 
for here, it is said, they catch the best shads in the world. ” 

This caution Sancho ventured to give, while, with much 
grief of soul, he was tying the cattle where they were to be left 
under the protection of enchanters. Don Quixote told h im 
to be under no concern about forsaking those animals; for he 
by whom they were themselves to be transported to far 
distant longitudes would take care that they should not want 
food. 

“I do not understand your longitudes,” said Sancho, “nor 
have I ever heard of such a word in all my life.” 

[ 244 ] 



The Enchanted Bark 




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THE ADVENTURES OF DON QUIXOTE 

‘Longitude,” replied Don Quixote, “means length; — but 
no- wonder thou dost not understand it, for thou art not bound 
to know Latin; though there are some who pretend to know 
it, and are as ignorant as thyself. ” 

“Now they are tied,” quoth Sancho, “what is next to be 
done.^” 

“What?” answered Don Quixote, “why, cross ourselves 
and weigh anchor — I mean embark — and cut the rope with 
which the vessel is now tied.” 

Then, leaping into it, followed by Sancho, he cut the cord, 
and the boat floated gently from the shore; and when Sancho 
saw himself a few yards from the bank, he began to quake 
with fear; but on hearing his friend Dapple bray, and seeing 
Rozinante struggle to get loose, he was quite overcome. 

“The poor ass,” said he, “brays for pure grief at being 
deserted, and Rozinante is endeavoring to get loose, that he 
may plunge into the river and follow us. O dearest friends, 
abide where you are in peace, and may the mad freak, which 
is the cause of our doleful parting, be quickly followed by a 
repentance that will bring us back again to your sweet com- 
pany.” 

Here he began to weep so bitterly that Don Quixote lost 
all patience. “Of what are thou afraid, cowardly wretch?” 
cried he: “ heart of butter ! why weepest thou? Who pursues, 
who annoys thee? Or what dost thou want, poor wretch, 
in this abundance? Peradventure thou art trudging bare- 
foot over the mountains? No, seated like an archduke, thou 
art gently gliding down the stream of this charming river, 
whence in a short space we shall issue out into the boundless 
[ 245 ] 


THE ADVENTURES OF DON QUIXOTE 


ocean, which doubtless we have already entered, and must 
have gone at least seven or eight hundred leagues. If I had 
but an astrolabe here, to take the elevation of the pole, I 
would tell thee what distance we have gone; though, if I am 
not much mistaken, we are already past, or shall presently 
pass, the equinoctial line, which divides and cuts the world 
in equal halves.” 

‘‘And when we come to that line your worship speaks of,” 
quoth Sancho, “how far shall we have travelled.^” 

“A mighty distance,” replied Don Quixote, “for of the 
three hundred and sixty degrees into which the terraqueous 
globe is divided, according to the system and computation 
of Ptolemy, the greatest of all geographers, we shall at least 
have travelled one-half when we come to that line.” 

“My goodness!” quoth Sancho, “your worship has 
brought a pretty fellow to witness, that same Tolmey — how 
d’ ye call him? with his amputation, to vouch for the truth 
of what you say. 

“I know,” said Sancho, “that we have crossed no line 
since I see with mine own eyes that we have not got five yards 
from the bank, for yonder stand Rozinante and Dapple in 
the very place where we left them; and, from points which 
I now mark, I vow we do not move an ant’s pace.” 

“Sancho,” said Don Quixote, “make the trial, and take 
no further care: thou knowest not what colors are, nor the 
lines, parallels, zodiacs, ecliptics, poles, solstices, equinoctials, 
planets, signs, and other points and measures of which the 
celestial and terrestial globes are composed; for if thou 
knowest all these things, or but a part of them, thou wouldst 
[ 246 ] 


THE ADVENTURES OF DON QUIXOTE 

plainly perceive what parallels we have cut, what signs we 
have seen, and what constellations we have left behind us, 
and are just now leaving.” “We have not yet arrived where 
your worship says — no, not by many leagues,” said Sancho. 

At this time several corn mills appeared before them in 
the midst of the stream, which Don Quixote no sooner espied 
than he exclaimed in a loud voice, “Behold, 0 Sancho! seest 
thou yon city, castle, or fortress.^ — there lies some knight 
under oppression, or some queen, infanta, or princess, con- 
fined in evil plight, to whose relief I am brought hither. ” 
“What city, fortress, or castle do you talk of, sir?'' quoth 
Sancho; “do you not see that they are mills, standing in the 
river for the grinding of corn?” 

“Peace, Sancho,” quoth Don Quixote; “for though they 
seem to be mills, they are not so. How often must I tell 
thee that enchanters have the power to transform whatever 
they please? I do not say that things are totally changed 
by them, but to our eyes they are made to appear so.” ^ 
The boat, having now got into the current of the river, was 
carried on with more speed than before; and, as it approached 
the mill, the laborers within, seeing it drifting towards them, 
and just entering the mill-stream, several of them ran out in 
haste with long poles to stop it; and, their faces and clothes 
being all covered with meal-dust, they had a ghostly appear- 
ance. 

“Devils of men!” said they, bawling aloud, “what do you 
there? Are you mad, or do you intend to drown yourselves, 
or be torn to pieces by the wheels?” 

“Did I not tell liiee, Sancho,” said Don Quixote, “that 
[ 247 ] 


THE ADVENTURES OF DON QUIXOTE 


we should certainly arrive where it would be necessary for me 
to display the valor of my arm? Look, what assassins and 
hobgoblins come out to oppose us! See these horrid visages 
with which they think to scare us! Now, rascals, have at 
you!” 

Then standing up in the boat, he began to threaten the 
millers aloud. ‘‘Ill-advised scoundrels!” said he, “set at 
liberty the person ye keep under oppression in that castle or 
fortress of yours, whether he be of high or low degree; for 
I am Don Quixote de la Mancha, for whom the happy accom- 
plishment of this adventure is reserved.” 

So saying, he drew his sword, and began to flourish with 
it in the air, as if he would smite the millers, who, not under- 
standing his menaces, endeavored to stop the boat, now on 
the point of entering into the swift current that rushed under 
the wheels. Sancho fell upon his knees and prayed devoutly 
for his deliverance, which was accomplished by the agility 
and adroitness of the millers with their poles; but not without 
oversetting the boat, whereby the knight and squire were 
plunged into the water. Although Don Quixote could swim 
like a goose, the weight of his armor now carried him twice 
to the bottom; and, had it not been for the millers, who leaped 
into the river and hauled them both out, they must inevitably 
have perished. 

After having been dragged on shore, much more wet than 
thirsty, Sancho again fell on his knees, and long and devoutly 
prayed that Heaven would thenceforward protect him from 
\he dangers to which he was likely to be exposed through the 
rash enterprises of his master. Now came the flshermen, 
[ 248 ] 


THE ADVENTURES OF DON QUIXOTE 

owners of the boat, which had been entirely destroyed by the 
mill-wheels, and loudly demanded reparation for the loss they 
had sustained, and for that purpose began to strip Sancho, 
when Don Quixote, with as much unconcern as if nothing had 
happened, gravely told the millers and fishermen that he would 
willingly pay for the boat on condition of their delivering up, 
free and without ransom, the person or persons whom they 
unjustly detained in their castle. 

^‘What persons or what castle, madman! do you mean.^” 
said one of the millers; ‘‘would you carry off those who come 
to have their corn ground at our mills. 

“There let it rest,” thought Don Quixote to himself: “it 
is only preaching to the desert to endeavor, either by argument 
or entreaty, to incite these dregs of human kind to a generous 
action. In this adventure it is manifest that two powerful 
enchanters must have engaged, the one frustrating what the 
other attempts; the one providing me a bark, and the other 
oversetting it. In this world there is nothing but plots and 
counterplots, mines and countermines! — I can do no more.” 

Then casting a look of melancholy towards the mills, 
“Friends,” he said, “whoever ye are that live immured in that 
prison, pardon me, I beseech you, for not having delivered 
you from affliction; by your ill fate and mine it is ordained 
that this adventure should be reserved for some more fortu- 
nate knight!” 

He then compounded with the fishermen, and agreed to 
give them fifty reals for the boat, which sum Sancho with much 
reluctance paid down, saying, “A couple more of such em- 
barkations as this will sink our whole capital.” The fisher- 
[ 249 ] 


THE ADVENTURES OF DON QUIXOTE 


men and millers stood gazing with astonishment at two figures 
so far out of the fashion and semblance of other men, and 
were quite at a loss to find out the meaning of Don Quixote’s 
speeches; but, conceiving their mtellects to be disordered, 
they left them, the millers retiring to their mills, and the 
fishermen to their cabins; whereupon, Don Quixote and 
Sancho, like a pair of senseless animals themselves, returned 
to the animals they had left; and thus ended the adventure 
of the enchanted bark. 

Low-spirited, wet, and out of humor, the knight and 
squire reached their cattle; Sancho more especially was 
grieved to the very soul to have encroached so much upon 
their stock of money; all that was taken thence seemed to him 
as so much taken from the apples of his eyes. In short, they 
mounted, without exchanging a word, and silently quitted 
the banks of that famous river: Don Quixote buried in 
amorous meditations, and Sancho in those of his preferment, 
which seemed at that moment to be very dim and remote; 
for, dull as he was, he saw clearly enough that his master’s 
actions were for the most part little better than crazy, and 
he only waited for an opportunity, without coming to accounts 
and reckonings, to steal off and march home. But fortune 
was kinder to him than he expected. 


[ 250 ] 


CHAPTER XXVIII 


MANY AND SUNDRY EVENTS 

I T happened on the following day, near sunset as 
they were issuing from a forest, that Don Quixote 
espied sundry persons at a distance, who, it appeared, 
as he drew nearer to them, were taking the diversion of 
hawking; and among them he remarked a gay lady mounted 
on a palfrey, or milk-white pad, with green furniture and 
a side-saddle of cloth of silver. Her own attire was also 
green, and so rich and beautiful that she was elegance itself. 
On her left hand she carried a hawk; whence Don Quixote 
conjectured that she must be a lady of high rank, and mistress 
of the hunting-party (as in truth she was), and therefore he 
said to the squire, “Hasten, Sancho, and make known to the 
lady of the palfrey and the hawk, that I, the Knight, humbly 
salute her highness, and, with her gracious leave, would be 
proud to kiss her fair hands, and serve her to the utmost of 
my power and her highness’s commands; but take especial 
care, Sancho, how thou deliverest my message, and be mind- 
ful not to interlard thy embassy with any of thy proverbs.” 

“So, then,” quoth Sancho, “why this to me? as if this 
forsooth, were the first time I had carried messages to high 
and mighty ladies!” 

“Excepting that to the Lady Dulcinea,” replied Don 
[ 251 ] 


THE ADVENTURES OF DON QUIXOTE 


Quixote, ‘‘ I know of none thou hast carried — at least, none 
from me.” 

‘‘That is true,” answered Sancho; “but a good paymaster 
needs no surety; and where there is plenty, dinner is soon 
dressed: I mean, there is no need of schooling me; for I am 
prepared for all, and know something of everything. ” 

“I believe it, Sancho,” quoth Don Quixote; “go, then, 
and Heaven direct thee.” 

Sancho set off at a good rate, forcing Dapple out of his 
usual pace, and went up to the fair huntress; then alighting, 
and kneeling before her, he said, “Beauteous lady, that knight 
yonder, called the Knight of the Sorrowful Figure, is my 
master, and I am his squire, Sancho Panza by name. That 
same Knight sends me to beg your grandeur would be pleased 
to give leave that, with your liking and good-will, he may 
approach and accomplish his wishes, which, as he says and I 
believe, are no other than to serve your exalted beauty, 
which if your ladyship grant, you will do a thing that will 
redound to the great benefit of yoUr highness; and to him it 
will be a mighty favor and satisfaction.” 

“Truly, good squire,” answered the lady, “you have 
delivered your message with all the circumstances which such 
embassies require. Rise up, I pray; for it is hoi fit the squire 
of so renowned a knight as he of the Sorrowful Figure, of 
whom we have already heard much in these parts, should 
remain upon his knees. Rise, friend, and desire your master, 
by all means, to honor us with his company, that my lord 
duke and I may pay him our respects at a rural mansion we 
have here, hard by= ” 


r 


THE ADVENTURES OF DON QUIXOTE 

Sancho rose up, no less amazed at the lady’s beauty than 
at her affability and courteous deportment, and yet more that 
her ladyship should have any knowledge of his master, the 
Knight of the Sorrowful Figure! 

‘‘Pray,” said the duchess, “is not your master the person 
of whom there is a history in print, called ‘The ingenious 
gentleman Don Quixote de la Mancha’?” 

“The very same,” answered Sancho; “and that squire 
of his, called Sancho Panza, am I.” 

“I am much delighted by what you tell me,” quoth the 
duchess; “go to your master, and give him my invitation and 
hearty welcome to my house; and tell him that nothing could 
happen to me which would afford me greater pleasure. ” 

Sancho, overjoyed at this gracious answer, hastened back 
to his master, and repeated to him all that the great lady had 
said to him; extolling to the skies, in his rustic phrase, her 
extraordinary beauty and courteous behavior. Don Quixote 
seated himself handsomely in his saddle, adjusted his vizor, 
enlivened Rozinante’s mettle, and assuming a polite and 
stately deportment, advanced to kiss the hand of the duchess. 
Her grace in the meantime having called the duke her husband, 
had already given him an account of the embassy she had 
just received; and, as they were aware of the extravagant 
humor of Don Quixote, they waited for him with infinite 
pleasure and the most eager desire to be acquainted with him, 
determined to indulge his humor to the utmost, and, while 
he remained with them, to treat him as a knight-errant, with 
all the ceremonies described in books of chivalry, which they 
took pleasure in reading. 

[ 253 ] 


THE ADVENTURES OF DON QUIXOTE 

Don Quixote now arrived, with his beaver up; and signify- 
ing his intention to alight, Sancho was hastening to hold his 
stirrup, but unfortunately, in dismounting from Dapple, his 
foot caught in one of the rope-stirrups in such a manner that 
it was impossible for him to disentangle himself, and he hung 
by it, with his face and breast on the ground. Don Quixote 
who was not accustomed to alight without having his stirrup 
held, thinking that Sancho was already there to do his office, 
threw his body off with a swing of his right leg, that brought 
down Rozinante’s saddle; and the girth giving away, both 
he and the saddle, to his great shame and mortification, came 
to the ground, where he lay, muttering between his teeth 
many a heavy execration against the unfortunate Sancho 
who was still hanging by the leg. The duke having com- 
manded some of his attendants to relieve the knight and 
squire, they raised Don Quixote, who, though much discom- 
posed by his fall, and limping, made an effort to approach and 
kneel before the lord and lady. The duke, however, would by 
no means suffer it; on the contrary, alighting from his horse, 
he immediately went up and embraced him, saying, ‘‘I am 
very sorry^, Sir Knight, that such a mischance should happen 
to you on your first arrival on my domains; but the 
negligence of squires is often the occasion of even greater 
disasters. ” 

‘‘The moment cannot be unfortunate that introduces me 
to your highness,” replied Don Quixote, “and had my fall 
been to the centre of the deep abyss, the glory of seeing your 
highness would have raised me thence. My squire is better 
at letting loose his tongue to utter impertinence than securing 
[254 ] 


THE ADVENTURES OF DON QUIXOTE 


a saddle; but whether down or up, on horseback or on foot, 
I shall always be at the service of your highness, and that of 
my lady duchess your worthy consort — the sovereign lady 
of beauty, and universal princess of all courtesy.” ‘‘Softly, 
dear Signor Don Quixote de la Mancha, ” quoth the duke ; “ for 
while the peerless Dulcinea del Toboso exists, no other beauty 
can be named.” 

Sancho Panza had now got freed from the noose, and being 
near, before his master could answer, he said, “It cannot be 
denied — nay, it must be declared, that my lady Dulcinea del 
Toboso is a rare beauty; but her highness there comes not a 
whit behind my mistress, the Lady Dulcinea del Toboso.” 

Don Quixote here turned to the duchess, and said, “I 
assure your grace, never any knight-errant in the world had a 
more conceited and troublesome prater for his squire than I 
have; of this he wdll give ample proof, if it please your highness 
to accept of my service for some days. ” 

“I am glad to hear that my friend Sancho is conceited,” 
replied the duchess; “it is a sign he has good sense; for wit 
and gay conceits, as you well know. Signor Don Quixote, 
proceed not from dull heads; and, since you acknowledge 
that Sancho has wit and pleasantry, I shall henceforth pro- 
nounce him to be wise — ” 

“And a prater,” added Don Quixote. “So much the 
better,” said the duke; “for many good things cannot be 
expressed in a few words; and, that we may not throw away 
all our time upon them, come on. Sir Knight of the Sorrowful 
Figure, to a castle of mine hard by, where you shall be 
received in a manner suitable to a person of your distinction, 
[ 255 ] 


THE ADVENTURES OF DON QUIXOTE 


and as the duchess and I are accustomed to receive all knights- 
errant who honor us with their society. ” 

By this time, Sancho having adjusted and well-girthed 
Rozinante’s saddle, Don Quixote remounted, and thus he and 
the duke, who rode a stately courser, with the duchess between 
them, proceeded towards the castle. The duchess requested 
Sancho to be near her, being mightily pleased with his arch 
observations; nor did Sancho require much entreaty, but, 
joining the other three, made a fourth in the conversation, to 
the great satisfaction of the duke and duchess, who looked 
upon themselves as highly fortunate in having to introduce 
such guests to their castle, and the prospect of enjoying the 
company of such a knight-errant and such an errant squire. 

Sancho’s joy was excessive on seeing himself, as he thought, 
a favorite with the duchess, not doubting but that he should 
find in her castle abundance, for good cheer was the delight 
of his heart, and therefore he always took care to seize by the 
forelock every opportunity to indulge that passion. Now 
before they came to the rural mansion or castle of the duke, his 
highness rode on before, and gave directions to his servants 
in what manner they were to behave to Don Quixote; there- 
fore, when he arrived with the duchess at the castle-gate, 
there immediately issued out two lackeys or grooms, clad in 
a kind of robe or gown of fine crimson satin reaching to their 
feet; and, taking Don Quixote in their arms, they privately 
said to him, “Go, great sir, and assist our lady the duchess to 
alight.” 

The knight accordingly hastened to oflFer his services, 
which, after much ceremony and many compliments, her 
[ 256 ] 


THE ADVENTURES OF DON QUIXOTE 

grace positively declined, saying that she would not alight from 
her palfrey, but into the duke’s arms, as she did not think 
herself worthy to charge so great a knight with so unprofitable 
a burden. At length the duke came out and lifted her from 
her horse; and on their entering into a large inner court of 
the castle, two beautiful damsels advanced and threw over Don 
Quixote s shoulders a large mantle of the finest scarlet, and 
in an instant all the galleries of the courtyard were crowded, 
with men and women, the domestic household of his grace- 
crying aloud, “Welcome the flower and cream of knights, 
errant!” Then they sprinkled whole bottles of sweet-scented 
waters upon the knight, and also upon the duke and duchess, 
all which Don Quixote observed with surprise and pleasure; 
being now for the first time thoroughly convinced that he was 
a true knight, and no imaginary one, since he was treated just 
like the knights-errant of former times. 

They ascended the great stairs, and conducted the knight 
into a spacious hall, sumptuously hung with cloth of gold and 
rich brocade. Six damsels attended to take off his armor and 
serve as pages, all tutored by the duke and duchess in their 
behavior towards him, in order to confirm his delusion. Don 
Quixote, being now unarmed, remained in his straight breeches 
and chamois doublet, lean, tall, and stiff, with his cheeks 
shrunk into his head; making such a figure that the damsels 
who waited on him had much difficulty to restrain their 
mirth, and observe in his presence that decorum which had 
been strictly enjoined by their lord and lady. 

Don Quixote then retired to dress himself for the coming 
meal, girt on his sword, threw the scarlet mantle over his 
[ 257 ] 


THE ADVENTURES OF DON QUIXOTE 


shoulders, put on a green satin cap which the damsels had 
given him, and thus equipped, marched out into the great 
saloon, where he found the damsels drawn up on each side in 
two equal ranks, and all of them provided with an equipage 
for washing his hands, which they administered with many 
reverences and much ceremony. Then came twelve pages 
with the major-domo, to conduct him to dinner, the lord and 
lady being now waiting for him; and, having placed him in 
the midst of them with great pomp and ceremony, they 
proceeded to another hall, where a rich table was spread out 
with four covers only. The duke and duchess came to the 
door to receive him, accompanied by a grave ecclesiastic. 
After a thousand courtly compliments mutually interchanged, 
Don Quixote advanced towards the table, between the duke 
and duchess, and, on preparing to seat themselves, they offered 
the upper end to Don Quixote, who would have declined it 
but for the pressing importunities of the duke. The ecclesi- 
astic seated himself opposite to the knight, and the duke and 
duchess on each side. 

Sancho was present all the while, in amazement to see the 
honor paid by those great people to his master; and whilst the 
numerous entreaties and ceremonies were passing between the 
duke and Don Quixote, before he would sit down at the head 
of the table, he said, ‘‘With your honor’s leave I will tell you 
a story of what happened in our town.” 

Don Quixote immediately began to tremble, not doubting 
that he was going to say something absurd. Sancho observed 
him^ and understanding his looks, he said, “Be not afraid, 
sir, of my breaking loose, or saying anything that is not pat 
[ 258 ] 


THE ADVENTURES OF DON QUIXOTE 

to the purpose. I have not forgotten the advice your worship 
gave me about talking much or little, well or ill.” 

“I remember nothing, Saneho,” answered Don Quixote; 
“say what thou wilt, so thou sayest it quickly.” 

“What I would say,” quoth Saneho, “is very true, for 
my master, Don Quixote, who is present, will not suffer me 
to lie.” 

Lie as much as thou wilt for me, Saneho,” replied Don 
Quixote; I shall not hinder thee; but take heed what thou 
art going to say.” 

“So, then,” said the ecclesiastic, “you, I suppose, are the 
same Saneho Panza they talk of, to whom it is said your 
• master has promised an island.?^” 

“I am that Saneho,” replied the squire, “and deserve it 
too, as well as any other he whatever. I have leaned and 
stuck close to a good master these many months, and shall 
be such another as he, if it be God’s good pleasure; and if he 
lives, and I live, neither shall he want kingdom^ to rule, nor 
I islands to govern.” 

“That you shall not, friend Saneho,” said the duke, “for 
in the name of Signor Don Quixote, I promise you the govern- 
ment of one of mine now vacant^ and of no inconsiderable 
value. ” 

“Kneel, Saneho,” said Don Quixote, “and kiss his excel- 
lency’s feet, for the favor he has done thee. 

At length, Don Quixote being pacified and calm, and the 
dinner ended, the cloth was removed; whereupon four damsels 
entered, one with a silver ewer, another with a basin, also of 
silver, a third with two fine clean towels over her shoulder, 
[ £59 ] 


THE ADVENTURES OF DON QUIXOTE 


and the fourth with her sleeves tucked up to her elbows, 
and in her white hands a ball of soap. The damsel who held 
the basin now respectfully approached the knight, and placed 
it under his beard; while he, wondering at the ceremony, yet 
believing it to be the custom of that country to wash beards 
instead of hands, obediently thrust out his chin as far as he 
could; whereupon the ewer began to rain upon his face, 
while the damsel of the soap lathered his beard with great 
dexterity, covering with a snow-white froth, not only the 
beard, but the whole face of the submissive knight, even over 
his eyes, which he was compelled to close. The duke and 
duchess, who were not in the secret, were eager to know the 
issue of this extraordinary ablution. The barber damsel 
having raised a lather a span high, pretended that the water 
was all used, and ordered the girl with the ewer to fetch more, 
telling her that Signor Don Quixote would stay till she came 
back. Thus he was left, the strangest and most ridiculous 
figure imaginable, to the gaze of all that were present; and, 
seeing him with his neck half an ell long, more than moderately 
swarthy, his eyes half-shut, and his whole visage under a 
covering of white foam, it was marvellous, and a sign of great 
discretion, that they were able to preserve their gravity. 

The damsels concerned in the jest gazed steadfastly on the 
ground, not daring to look at their lord or lady, who were 
divided between anger and mirth, not knowing whether to 
chastise the girls for their boldness, or reward them for the 
amusement their device had afforded. The water nymph 
returned, and the beard-washing was finished, when she who 
was charged with the towels performed the office of wiping 
[ 260 ] 


THE ADVENTURES OF DON QUIXOTE 

and drying with much deliberation; and thus the ceremony 
being concluded, the four damsels at once, making him a pro- 
found reverence, were retiring, when the duke, to prevent 
Don Quixote from suspecting the jest, called the damsel with 
the basin and said, ‘‘ Come and do your duty, and take care 
that you have water enough. ” 

The girl, who was shrewd and active, went up, and applied 
the basin to the duke’s chin in the same manner she had done 
to that of Don Quixote; and with equal adroitness, but more 
celerity, repeated the ceremony of lathering, washing, and, 
wiping; and the whole being done, they made their courtesies 
and retired. The duke, however, had declared, as it after- 
wards appeared, that he would have chastised them for their 
pertness, if they had refused to serve him in the same manner. 


[ 261 ] 


CHAPTER XXIX 


THE INSTRUCTIONS WHICH DON QUIXOTE GAVE 
TO SANCHO PANZA BEFORE HE WENT 
TO HIS GOVERNMENT 

T he duke and duchess being so well pleased were 
encouraged to proceed with other projects, seeing 
that there was nothing too extravagant for the 
credulity of the knight and squire. The necessary orders 
were accordingly issued to their servants and vassals with 
regard to their behavior towards Sancho in his government 
of the promised island. After the duke bid Sancho prepare 
and get himself in readiness to assume his office, for his 
islanders were already wishing for him as for rain in May. 

Sancho made a low bow, and said, ‘‘My desire to he a 
governor has partly cooled; for what mighty matter is it to 
command on a spot no bigger than a grain of mustard-seed.^ 
Where is the majesty and pomp of governing half a dozen 
creatures no bigger than hazel-nuts? If your lordship will be 
pleased to offer me some small portion of heaven, though it 
be but half a league, I would jump at it sooner than for the 
largest island in the world. ” 

“Look you, friend Sancho,’’ answered the duke, “what it 
is in my power to give, I give you with all my heart; and the 
[ 262 ] 


THE ADVENTURES OF DON QUIXOTE 

island I now present ilo you is ready made, round and sound, 
well proportioned, and above measure fruitful, and where, by 
good management, you may yourself, with the riches of the 
earth, purchase an inheritance.” 

“Well, then,” answered Sancho, “let this island be. forth- 
coming, and it shall go hard with me but I will be such a 
governor that, in spite of rogues, heaven will take me in. Nor 
is it out of covetousness that I forsake my humble cottage 
and aspire to greater things, but the desire I have to taste 
what it is to be a governor. ” 

“If once you taste it, Sancho,” quoth the duke, “you will 
lick your fingers after it; so sweet it is to command and be 
obeyed. And certain I am when your master becomes an 
emperor, of which there is no doubt, as matters proceed so 
well, it would be impossible to wrest his power from him, and 
his only regret will be that he had it not sooner. ” 

“Faith, sir, you are in the right,” quoth Sancho; “it is 
pleasant to govern, though it be but a fiock of sheep,” 

“Let me be buried with you, Sancho,” replied the duke, 
“if you know not something of everything, and I doubt not 
you will prove a pearl of a governor. But enough of this for 
the present; tomorrow you surely depart for your island, and 
this evening you shall be fitted with suitable apparel and with 
all things necessary for your appointment.” 

“Clothe me as you will,” said Sancho, “I shall still be 
Sancho Panza. ” 

“That is true,” said the duke; “but the garb should 
always be suitable to the office and rank of the wearer. 

At this time Don Quixote came up to them, and hearing 
[ 263 ] 


THE ADVENTURES OF DON QUIXOTE 


how soon Sancho was to depart to his government, he took him 
by the hand, and, with the duke’s leave, led him to his chamber, 
in order to give him some advice respecting his conduct in 
office; and having entered, he shut the door, and, almost by 
force, made Sancho sit down by him, and with much solemnity 
addressed him in these words: 

‘T am thankful to Heaven, friend Sancho, that even 
before fortune has crowned my hopes, prosperity has gone 
forth to meet thee. I, who had trusted in my own success 
for the reward of thy services, am still but on the road to 
advancen^ent, whilst thou, prematurely, and before all 
reasonable expectation, art come into full possession of thy 
wishes. Some must bribe, importune, solicit, attend early, 
pray, persist, and yet do not obtain what they desire; whilst 
another comes, and without knowing how, jumps at once into 
the preferment for which so many had sued in vain. It is 
truly said that ‘merit does much but fortune more.’ Thou, 
who in respect to me art but a very simpleton, without either 
early rising or late watching, without labor of body or mind, 
by the air alone of knight-errantry breathing on thee, findest 
thyself the governor of an island, as if it were a trifle, a thing 
of no account! 

“All this I say, friend Sancho, that thou mayest not ascribe 
the favor done thee to thine own merit but give thanks, first 
to Heaven, which dispose th things so kindly; and, in the next 
place, acknowledge with gratitude the inherent grandeur of 
the profession of knight-errantry. Thy heart being disposed 
to believe what I have now said to thee, be attentive, my son, 
to me, thy Cato, who will be thy counsellor, thy north star, 
[ 264 ] 


i 



Sancho as Governor 





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hi. 


THE ADVENTURES OF DON QUIXOTE 

and thy guide, to conduct and steer thee safe into port, out 
of that tempestuous sea upon which thou art going to embark, 
and where thou wilt be in danger of being swallowed up in 
the gulf of confusion. 

“Consider what thou art, and endeavor to know thyself, 
which is the most difficult study of all others. The knowledge 
of thyself will preserve thee from vanity, and the fate of the 
frog that foolishly vied with the ox will serve thee as a caution; 
the recollection, too, of having been formerly a swineherd in 
thine own country will be to thee, in the loftiness of thy pride, 
like the ugly feet of the peacock.” 

“It is true,” said Sancho, “that I once kept swine; but 
I was only a boy then; when I grew towards man I looked 
after geese, and not hogs. But this, methinks, is nothing to 
the purpose, for all governors are not descended from kings. ” 

“That I grant,” replied Don Quixote; “and therefore 
those who have not the advantage of noble descent should 
fail not to grace the dignity of the office they bear with gentle- 
ness and modesty, which, when accompanied with discretion, 
will silence those murmurs which few situations in life can 
escape. 

“Conceal not the meanness of thy family, nor think it 
disgraceful to be descended from peasants; for, when it is 
seen that thou art not thyself ashamed, none will endeavor to 
make thee so; and deem it more meritorious to be a virtuous 
humble man than a lofty sinner. Infinite is the number of 
those who, born of low extraction, have risen to the highest 
dignities; and of this truth I could tire thee with examples. 

“If, Sancho, thou observest these precepts, thy days will 
[ 265 ] 


THE ADVENTURES OF DON QUIXOTE 


be long and thy fame eternal, thy recompense full, and thy 
felicity unspeakable. Beloved by all men, thy days shall 
pass in peace and tranquillity; and when the inevitable 
period comes, death shall steal on thee in a good and venerable 
old age, and thy grandchildren’s children, with their tender 
and pious hands, shall close thine eyes.” 

During the whole of this private conference, Sancho 
listened to his master with great attention, and endeavored so 
to register his counsel in his mind, that he might thereby be 
enabled to bear the burden of government, and acquit himself 
honorably. 

Don Quixote, in the evening of the day in which Sancho 
had received his admonitions, gave him a copy of them in 
writing, that he might get them read to him occasionally; 
but they were no sooner delivered to Sancho than he dropped 
them, and they fell into the duke’s hands, who communicated 
them to the duchess. That very evening, in prosecution of 
their merry project, they dispatched Sancho, with a large 
retinue, to the place which to him was to be an island. The 
person who had the management of the business was steward 
to the duke; a man of much humor, and who had, besides, 
a good understanding. He was so well tutored by his lord 
and lady as to his behavior towards Sancho, he performed his 
part to admiration. 

At length Sancho set out with a numerous train. He was 
dressed like one of the long robe. Wearing a loose gown of 
sad-colored camlet, and a cap of the same. He was mounted 
upon a mule, and behind him, by the duke’s order, was led 
his Dapple adorned with shining trappings of silk, which so 
[ 266 ] 


THE ADVENTURES OF DON QUIXOTE 


delighted Sancho that every now and tiien he turned his head 
to look upon him, and thought himself so happy that he would 
not have changed conditions with the Emperor. On taking 
leave of the duke and duchess, he kissed their hands; at the 
same time he received his master’s blessing, not without 
tears on both sides. 

It was related, then, that, immediately after Sancho’s 
departure, Don Quixote began to feel the solitary state in 
which he was now left, and had it been possible for him to have 
revoked the commission, and deprived Sancho of his govern- 
ment, he would certainly have done it. 


[ 267 ] 


CHAPTER XXX 


HOW THE GREAT SANCHO PANZA TOOK POS- 
SESSION OF HIS ISLAND 

S ANCHO, then, with all his attendants, arrived at 
a town containing about a thousand inhabitants, 
which was one of the largest and best the duke had. 
They gave him to understand that it was called the 
island of Barataria. On his arrival near the gates of the 
town, which was walled about, the municipal officers came 
out to receive him. The bells rung, and, with all the demon- 
strations of a general joy, and a great deal of pomp, the people 
conducted him to the great church to give thanks. Presently 
after, with certain ridiculous ceremonies, they presented him 
the keys of the town, and constituted him perpetual governor 
of the island of Barataria. The garb, the beard, the thickness 
and shortness of the new governor, surprised all who were 
not in the secret, and, indeed, those who were, who were not 
a few. In fine, as soon as they had brought him out of the 
church, they carried him to the tribunal of justice, and placed 
him in the chair. The duke’s steward then said to hirm ‘‘It 
is an ancient custom here, my lord governor, that he who 
comes to take possesision of this famous island is obliged to 
answer a question put to him, which is to be somewhat intri- 
[ 268 ] 


THE ADVENTURES OF DON QUIXOTE 

cate and difficult. By his answer the people are enabled to 
feel the pulse of their new governor’s understanding, and 
accordingly, are either glad or sorry for his corning.” 

While the steward was saying this, Sancho was staring at 
some capital letters written on the wall opposite to his chair, 
and, being unable to read, he asked what that writing was on 
the wall. He was answered, “Sir, it is there written on what 
your honor took possession of this island. The inscription 
runs thus: ‘This day, such a day of the month and year. 
Signor Don Sancho Panza took possession of this island. 
Long may he enjoy it. ’ ” 

“Pray who is it they call Don Sancho Panza?” demanded 
Sancho. 

“Your lordship,” answered the steward; “for no other 
Panza, besides him now in the chair, ever came into this 
island.” 

“Take notice, then, brother,” returned Sancho, “that 
I am called plain Sancho Panza; my father was a Sancho, 
and my grandfather was a Sancho, and they were all Panzas, 
without any addition of other title whatever. On with your 
question. Master Steward, and I will answer the best I can, 
let the people be sorry or rejoice.” 

About this time two men came into the court, the one clad 
like a country fellow, and the other like a tailor with a pair 
of shears in his hand; and the tailor said, “My lord governor, 
I and this countryman come before your worship by reason this 
honest man came yesterday to my shop (saving your presence, 
I am a tailor), and putting a piece of cloth into my hands, 
asked me, ‘ Sir, is there enough of this to make me a cap?’ 

[ 269 ] 


THE ADVENTURES OF DON QUIXOTE 


I, measuring the piece, answered ‘Yes.’ Now he, thinking that 
doubtless I had a mind to steal some of the cloth, basing his 
idea upon his own knavery, and upon the common ill opinion 
of tailors, bade me view it again, and see if there was not 
enough for two. I guessed his drift, and told him there was. 
Persisting in his knavish intentions, my customer went on 
increasing the number of caps, and I still saying. Yes, till we 
came to five caps. A little time ago he came to claim them. 
I offered them to him, but he refuses to pay me for the making, 
and insists I shall either return him his cloth or pay him for 
it.” 

“Is all this So, brother.^” demanded Sancho. 

“Yes,” answered the man; “but pray, my lord, make him 
produce the five caps he has made me.” 

“With all my heart,” answered the tailor; and pulling 
his hand from under his cloak, he showed the five caps on 
the ends of his fingers and thumb, saying, “Here are the five 
caps this honest man would have me make, and on my soul 
and conscience, not a shred of the cloth is left, and I submit 
the work to be viewed by any inspectors of the trade. ” 

All present laughed at the number of the caps and the 
novelty of the suit. Sancho reflected a moment, and then 
said, “I am of opinion there needs no great delay in this suit, 
and it may be decided very equitably offhand. Therefore I 
pronounce that the tailor lose the making and the countryman 
the stuff, and that the caps be confiscated to the use of the 
poor; and there is an end of that.” 

This sentence of Sancho caused the laughter of all the 
bystanders. 


[ 270 ] 


THE ADVENTURES OF DON QUIXOTE 


The history relates that Sancho Panza was conducted from 
the court of justice to a sumptuous palace, where in a great 
hall he found a magnificent entertainment prepared. He had 
no sooner entered than his ears were saluted by the sound of 
many instruments, and four pages served him with water to 
wash his hands, which the governor received with becoming 
gravity. The music having ceased, Sancho now sat down to 
dinner in a chair of state placed at the upper end of the table; 
for there was but one seat, and only one plate and napkin. 
A personage who, as it afterwards appeared, was a physician, 
took his stand at one side of his chair with a whalebone rod in 
his hand. They then removed the beautiful white cloth, which 
covered a variety of fruits and other eatables. Grace was said 
by one in a student’s dress, and a laced bib was placed by a 
page under Sancho’s chin. Another, who performed the office 
of waiter, now set a plate of fruit before him; but he had 
scarcely tasted it, when, on being touched by the wand-bearer, 
it was snatched away, and another, containing meat, instantly 
supplied its place. Yet, before Sancho could niake a begin- 
ning, it vanished, like the former, on a signal of the wand. 

The governor was surprised at this proceeding, and, look- 
ing around him, asked if this dinner was only to show off their 
sleight of hand. ^ 

“My lord,” said the wand-bearer, “your lordship’s food 
must here be watched with the same care as is customary with 
the governors of other islands. I am a doctor of physic, sir, 
and my duty, for which I receive a salary, is to watch over 
the governor’s health, whereof I am more careful than of my 
I study his constitution night and day, that I may 
[ 271 ] 


own. 


THE ADVENTURES OF DON QUIXOTE 

know how to restore him when sick; and therefore think 
it incumbent on me to pay especial regard to his meals, at 
which I constantly preside, to see that he eats what is good 
and salutary, and prevent his touching whatever I may imagine 
may be prejudicial to his health or offensive to his stomach. 
It was for that reason, my lord,” continued he, ‘‘I ordered 
the dish of fruit to be taken away^ as being too watery, and 
that other dish as being too hot, and over-seasoned with spices, 
which are apt to provoke thirst; and he that drinks much 
destroys and consumes the moisture which is the fuel of life. ” 
“Well, then,” quoth Sancho, “that plate of roasted par- 
tridges, which seem to me to be very well seasoned, I suppose, 
will do me no manner of harm.^” 

“Hold,” said the doctor; “my lord governor shall not eat 
them while I live to prevent it.” 

“Pray, why not.^” quoth Sancho. “Because,” answered 
the doctor, “our great master Hippocrates, the north star 
and luminary of medicine, says in one of his aphorisms, ‘All 
repletion is bad, but that from partridges the worst. ’ ” 

“If it be so,” quoth Sancho, “pray cast your eye. Signor 
Doctor, over all these dishes here on the table, and see which 
will do me the most good or the least harm, and let me eat of 
it, without whisking it away with your conjuring-stick; for 
as Heaven shall give me life to enjoy this government, I am 
dying with hunger; and to deny me food — let Signor Doctor 
say what he will — is not the way to lengthen my life, but 
to cut it short.” 

“Your worship is in the right, my lord governor,” answered 
the physician, “ and therefore I am of opinion you should not 
[ 272 ] 


THE ADVENTURES OF DON QUIXOTE 


eat of these stewed rabbits, as being a food that is tough and 
acute; of that veal, indeed, you might have taken a little, had 
it been neither roasted nor stewed; but as it is, not a morsel. 
What I would at present advise my lord governor to eat, in 
order to corroborate and preserve his health, is about a hun- 
dred small rolled-up wafers, with some thin slices of marma- 
lade, that may sit upon the stomach and help digestion. ” 

Sancho, hearing this, threw himseK backward in his chair, 
and, looking at the doctor from head to foot very seriously 
asked him his name, and where he had studied. To which he 
answered, ‘‘My lord governor, my name is Doctor Pedro 
Rezio de Aguerp; I am a native of a place called Tirteafuera 
lying between Caraquel and Almoddobar del Campo, on the 
right hand, and I have taken my doctor’s degrees in the 
imiversity of Ossuna. ” 

“Then, hark you,” said Sancho, in a rage, “Signor Doctor 
Pedro Rezio de Aguero, native of Tirteafuera, lying on the 
right hand as we go from Caraquel to Almoddobar del Campo, 
graduate in Ossuna, get out of my sight this instant! or I will 
take a cudgel, and, beginning with your carcass, will so belabor 
all the physic-mongers in the island, that not one of the tribe 
shall be left! I say again. Signor Pedro Rezio, begone! or 
I shall take the chair I sit on, and comb your head to some tune; 
and, if I am called to an account for it when I give up my 
office, I shall prove that I have done a good service, in ridding 
the world of a bad physician, who is a public executioner. 
Body of me! give me something to eat, or let them take back 
their government; for an office that will not find a man in 
victuals is not worth two beans.” 

[ 273 I 


THE ADVENTURES OF DON QUIXOTE 


“Indeed, my lord governor,” quoth the waiter, “your 
lordship is much in the right in all you have said; and I dare 
engage, in the name of all the inhabitants of this island, that 
they will serve your worship with all punctuality, love, and 
good-will; for your gentle way of governing leaves us no 
room to do or think anything to the disadvantage of your 
worship.” 

“I believe as much,” replied Sancho, “and they would be 
little better than fools if they did or thought otherwise; there- 
fore I tell you, once again, it is my pleasure that you look 
well to me and niy Dapple in the article of food; for that is 
the main point; and when the hour comes, we will go the 
round, as my intention is to clear this island of all manner of 
rubbish, especially vagabonds, idlers, and sharpers; for I 
would have you know, friends, that your idle and lazy people 
in a commonwealth are like drones in a bee-hive, which devour 
the honey that the laboring bees gather. My design is to 
protect the peasants, maintain the gentry in their privileges 
and reward virtue. What think you of this my good friends? 
Do I Siay something, or do I crack my brains to no pur- 
pose?” 

“My lord governor speaks so well,” replied the steward, 
“that I am all admiration to hear one devoid of learning 
like your worship utter so many notable things, so far beyond 
the expectation of your subjects, or those who appointed you. 
But every day produces something new in the world; jests 
turn into earnest, and the biters are bit.” 

The governor having supped by license of Signor Doctor 
Rezio, they prepared for going the round, and he set out with 
[ 274 ] 


THE ADVENTURES OF DON QUIXOTE 

the secretary, the steward, the waiter, and the historiographer, 
who had the charge of recording his actions, together with 
Sergeants and notaries: altogether forming a little battalion. 
Sancho, with his rod of office, marched in the midst of them, 
making a goodly show. Seven days after, his government 
ended. 

The governor being in bed on the seventh night of his 
administa’ation, and just at the moment when sleep, in despite 
of hunger, was closing his eyelids, he heard such a noise of bells 
and voices that he verily thought the whole island had been 
sinking. He started up in his bed, and listened with great 
attention, to find out, if possible, the cause of so alarming an 
uproar; but far from discovering it, his confusion and terror 
were only augmented by the din of an infinite number of 
trumpets and drums being added to the former noises. Quit- 
ting his bed, he put on his slippers, and opened his chamber- 
door and saw more than twenty persons coming along a 
gallery with lighted torches in their hands, and their swords 
drawn, all crying aloud, “Arm, arm, rny lord governor, arm! — 
a world of enemies have got into the island, and we are undone 
forever, if your conduct and valor do not save us.” 

Thus advancing, with noise and disorder, they came up 
to where Sancho stood, astonished and stupefied with what 
he heard and saw. “Arm yourself quickly, my lord,” said 
one of them, “ unless you would be ruined, and the whole island 
with you.” 

“What have I to do with arming,” replied Sancho, “who 
know nothing of arms or fighting.^^ It were better to leave 
these matters to my master Don Quixote, who will dispatch 
[ 275 ] 


THE ADVENTURES OF DON QUIXOTE 

them and secure us in a trice; for I understand nothing at 
all of these hurly-burlys. ’’ 

“How, Signor Governor!” said another; “what faint- 
heartedness is this? Here we bring you arm^ and weappns — 
harness yourself, my lord, and come forth to the market-place? 
and be our leader and our captain^ which, as governor, y^u 
ought to be.” “Why, then, arm me,” replied Sancho: and 
instantly they brought two large old targets, which they had 
provided for the occasion, and, without allowing him to put 
on other garments, clapped them over his shirt, the one before 
and the other behind. They thrust his arms through holes 
they had made in them, and bound them so fast together with 
cords, that the poor commander remained cased and boarded 
up as stiff and straight as a spindle, without power to bend 
his knees or stir a single step^ They then put a lance into his 
hand, upon which he leaned to keep himself up; and thus 
accoutred, they desired him to lead on and animate his 
people; for he being their north-pole, their lantern, and their 
morning star, their affairs could not fail to have a prosperous 
issue. 

“How should I march — wretch that I am!” said the gov- 
ernor, “when I cannot stir a joint between these boards, that 
press into my flesh? Your only way is to carry me in your 
arnis, and lay me athwart or set me upright, at some gate 
which I will maintain either with my lance or my body. ” 

“Fie, Signor Governor!” said another, “it is more fear 
than the targets that hinders your marching. Hasten and 
exert yourself, for time advances, the eneniy pours in upon us, 
and every moment increases our danger. ” 

[ 276 ] 


THE ADVENTURES OF DON QUIXOTE 

The ujifartunate governor, thus urged and upbraided, 
made eflforts to move, and down he fell, with such violence 
that he thought every bone had been broken; and there he 
lay. Though they saw his disaster, those jesting rogues had 
no compassion; on the contrary, putting out their torches, 
they renewed the alarm, and, with terrible noise trampled over 
his body, and bestowed numerous blows upon the targets, 
insomuch that, if he had not contrived to shelter his head 
aetween the bucklers, it had gone hard with the poor governor, 
who, pent up within his narrow lodging, and sweating with 
fear, prayed from the bottom of his heart for deliverance from 
that horrible situation. Some kicked him, others stumbled 
and fell over him, and one among them jumped upon his body 
and there stood as on a watch-tower, issuing his orders to the 
troops. 

“There, boys, there! that way tlie enemy charges thickest! 
defend that breach! secure yon gate! down with those scaling 
ladders ! this way with your kettles of melted pitch, resin, and 
flaming oil; quick! fly — get woolpacks, and barricade the 
streets!” 

In short, he called for all the instruments of death, and 
everything employed in the defence of a city besieged and 
stormed. All this while Sancho, pressed and battered, lay 
and heard what was passing, and often said to himself, “Oh 
that this island were but taken, and I could see myself either 
dead or delivered out of this den!” Heaven at last heard 
his prayers, and, when least expecting it, he was cheered with 
shouts of triumph. “Victory! victory!” they cried; “the 
enemy is routed. Rise, Signor Governor, enjoy the conquest, 
[ 277 ] 


THE ADVENTURES OF DON QUIXOTE 


and divide the spoils taken from the foe by the valor of that 
invincible arm!’' 

“Raise me up,” quoth Sancho, in a woful tone; and when 
they had placed him upon his legs, he said, “All the enemies 
I have routed may be nailed to my forehead. I will divide 
no spoils; but I beg and entreat some friend, if I have any, 
to give me a draught to keep me from choking with thirst.” 

They untied the targets, wiped him, and brought him 
drink; and, when seated upon his bed, such had been his 
fatigue, agony, and terror, that he fainted away. Those con- 
cerned in the joke were now sorry thay had laid it on so heavily, 
but were consoled on seeing him recover. He asked them what 
tim,e it was, and they told him it was daybreak. He said no 
more, but proceeded in silence to put on his clothes, while the 
rest looked on, curious to know what were his intentions. 

At length, having put on his clothes, which he did slowly 
and with much difficulty, from his bruises, he bent his way to 
the stable, followed by all present, and going straight to 
Dapple, he embraced him, and gave him a kiss of peace on 
his forehead. “Come hither,” said he, with tears in his eyes, 
“my friend, and the partner of my fatigues and miseries. 
When I consorted with thee, and had no other care but mend- 
ing thy furniture, and feeding that little carcass of thine, happy 
were my hours, my days, and my years; but since I forsook 
thee, and mounted the towers of ambition and pride, a thou- 
sand toils, a ffiousand torments, and ten thousand tribulations, 
have seized and worried my soul. ” 

While he thus spoke, he fixed the pannel upon his ass with- 
out interruption from anybody, and when he had done, with 
[278] 


THE ADVENTURES OF DON QUIXOTE 


great difficulty and pain he got upon him, and said to the 
steward, the secretary, and the doctor, Pedro Rezio, and many 
others who were present, ‘‘Make way, gentlemen, make way, 
and let me return to my ancient liberty; let me seek the life 
I have left, that I may rise again from this grave. I was not 
born to be a governor, nor to defend islands nor cities from 
enemies that break in upon them. I understand better how 
to plough and dig, to plant and prune vines, than to make 
laws and to take care of provinces and kingdoms. In my 
hand a sickle is better than a sceptre. Heaven be with you, 
gentlefolks; I neither win nor lose; for without a penny came 
I to this government, and without a penny do I leave it. 
Make way, gentlemen, I beseech you, that I may go and 
plaster myself, for I verily believe all my ribs are broken — 
thanks to the enemies who have been trampling over me all 
night long.” 

“It must not be s.o. Signor Governor,” said the doctor, “I 
will give your lordship a draught, good against all kinds of 
bruises, that shall presently restore you to your former health 
and vigor; and as to your food, my lord, I promise to amend 
that, and let you eat abundantly of whatever you desire.” 

“Your promises come too late, Mr. Doctor,” quoth Sancho; 
“ I will as soon turn Turk as remain here. These tricks are not 
to be played twice. ’Fore Heavem I will no more hold this 
nor any other government, though it were served up to me in 
a covered dish. I am of the race of the Panzas, who are made 
of stubborn stuff; and if they once cry, ‘ Odds! odds ’ it shall 
be, come of it what will. Here will I leave the flimsy wings; 
and be content to walk upon plain ground, with a plain foot; 

[ 279 ] 


THE ADVENTURES OF DON QUIXOTE 

for though it be not adorned with pjnk shoes, it will not wait 
for hempen sandals, so let me be gone, for it grows late.” 

‘‘Signor Governor,” said the steward, “we would not 
presume to hinder your departure, although we are grieved 
to lose you, but your lordship knows that every governor 
before he lays down his authority is bound to render an 
account of his administration. Be pleased, my lord, to do so 
for the time which you have been amongst us; then peace be 
with you.” 

“Nobody can require that of me,” replied Sancho, “but 
my lord duke; to him I go, and to him I shall give a fair and 
square account.” “The great Sancho is in the right,” said 
the doctor, “and I am of opinion we should let him go; for 
without doubt his highness will be glad to see him. ” 

They all agreed, therefore, that he should b;e allowed to 
depart, and also offered to attend him and provide him with 
whatever was necessary or convenient for his j ourney. Sancho 
told them he wanted only a little barley for Dapple, and half 
a cheese and half a loaf for himself; that having so short a 
distance to travel, nothing more would be needful. Hereupon 
they all embraced him, which kindness he returned with tears 
in his eyes, and he left them in admiration both of his good 
sense and unalterable firmness. 


[ 280 ] 


CHAPTER XXXI 


THE RETURN 

O NE morning, as the knight was riding out to 
exercise, now urging, now checking the mettle of 
his steed, it happened that Rozinante, in one of 
his curvetings, pitched his feet so near the brink of a deep 
cave that had not Don Quixote used his reins with all his skill, 
he must inevitably have fallen into it. But having escaped 
that danger, he was curious to examine the chasm, and as he 
was earnestly surveying it, still sitting on his horse, he thought 
he heard a noise issuing from below like a human voice; and 
listening more attentively, he distinctly heard these words: 
“Ho! above there! is there any one that hears me, or any 
charitable gentleman to take pity on a sinner buried alive — 
a poor governor without a government.^” 

Don Quixote thought it was the voice of Sancho Panza; 
at which he was greatly amazed, and raising his voice as high 
as he could, he cried, “Who are you below there? Who is it 
that complains?” 

“Who should be here, and who complains?” answered the 
voice, “but the most wretched soul alive, Sancho Panza, 
governor, for his sins and evil-errantry, of the island of Bara- 
taria, and late squire to the famous knight, Don Quixote de 
la Mancha.” 


[281 ] 


THE ADVENTURES OF DON QUIXOTE 


On hearing this, Don Quixote’s wonder and alarm 
increased; for he conceived that Sancho Panza was dead; 
and in this persuasion, he said, ‘‘I conjure thee to tell me 
who thou art.” 

‘‘Surely,” answered the voice from below, “it is my 
master, Don Quixote de la Mancha, who speaks to me — 
by the sound of the voice it can be no other!” 

“Don Quixote I am,” replied the knight, “he whose pro- 
fession and duty it is to relieve and succor the living and the 
dead in their necessities. Tell me, then, who thou art, for I 
am amazed at what I hear. If thou art really my squire, 
Sancho Panza, tell me.” “Why, then,” said the voice, 
“I will swear by whatever your worship pleases. Signor Don 
Quixote de la Mancha, that I am your squire, Sancho Panza, 
and that I never died in the whole course of my life; but that, 
having left my government for reasons and causes that require 
more leisure to be told, I fell last night into this cavern, where 
I now am, and Dapple with me, who will not let me lie; and 
as further proof, here the good creature stands by me.” 

Now it would seem the ass understood what Sancho said, 
and willing to add his testimony, at that instant began to 
bray so lustily that the whole cave resounded. 

“A credible witness!” quoth Don Quixote; “that bray 
I know as well as if I myself had brought it forth; and thy 
voice, too, I know, my dear Sancho — wait a little and I will 
go to the duke’s castle and bring some people to get thee out 
of this pit into which thou hast certainly been cast for thy 
sins. ” 

“Pray go,” quoth Sancho, “and return speedily; for I 



The Return 


. Vii 


> 


» 




THE ADVENTURES OF DON QUIXOTE 

cannot bear any longer to be buried alive, and am dying with 
fear.” 

Don Quixote left him and hastened to the castle to tell 
the duke and duchess what had happened to Sancho Panza; 
at which they were not a little surprised, though they readily 
accounted for his being there, and conceived that he might 
easily have fallen down the pit, which was well known, and 
had been there time out of mind; but they could not imagine 
how he should have left his government without their having 
been apprised of it. Ropes and pulleys were, however, imme- 
diately sent; and with much labor and many hands. Dapple 
and his master were drawn out of that gloomy den to the 
welcome light of the sun. 

Now Don Quixote thought it full time to quit so inactive 
a life as that which he led in the castle, deeming himself cul- 
pable in living thus in indolence, amidst the luxuries prepared 
for him, as a knight-errant, by the duke and duchess; and 
he believed he should have to account for this neglect of the 
duties of his profession. He therefore requested permission 
of their graces to depart, which they granted him, but with 
every expression of regret. 

That same evening Don Quixote took leave of the duke 
and duchess, and early tjie next morning he sallied forth, 
completely armed, into the great court, the surrounding 
galleries of which were crowded with the inmates of the castle, 
all eager to behold the knight; nor were the duke and duchess 
absent on that occasion. Sancho was mounted upon Dapple, 
his wallets well furnished, and himself much pleased; fdr 
the duke’s steward had given him, unknown to Don Quixote, 
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THE ADVENTURES OF DON QUIXOTE 


a little purse with two hundred crowns in gold, to supply the 
occasions of the journey. 

The knight pursued his journey homewards. At last at 
the entrance of the village, Don Quixote observed two 
boys standing on a threshing-floor, disputing with each 
other. “You need not trouble yourself, Perquillo,’’ said one 
of them, “for you shall never see it again.” 

Don Quixote hearing these words, said, “Dost thou mark 
that, Sancho? Hearest thou what he says.^ ‘You shall 
never see it again!’ ” 

“Well, and what then.^” said Sancho. 

“What!” replied Don Quixote, “dost thou not perceive 
that, applying these words to myself, I am to understand that 
I shall nev^r more behold my Dulcinea.^” 

In a field adjoining the village, they met the curate and 
a bachelor Sampson Carrasco repeating their breviary. It 
must be mentioned that Sancho Panza, by way of sumpter 
cloth, had thrown a buckram robe painted with flames upon 
his ass. He likewise clapped a mitre on Dapple’s head — 
in short, never was an ass so honored and bedizened. The 
priest and bachelor, immediately recognizing their friends, 
ran, towards them with open arms. Don Quixote alighted 
and embraced them cordially. In the meantime the boys 
came flocking from all parts. “Ho!” cries one, “here come 
Sancho Panza’s ass as gay as a parrotl, and Don Quixote’s old 
horse, leaner than ever!” 

Thus surrounded by the children, and accompanied by the 
priest and the bachelor, they proceeded through the village 
till they arrived at Don Quixote’s house, where at the door they 
[ 284 ] 


THE ADVENTURES OF DON QUIXOTE 

found the housekeeper and the niece who had already heard 
of his arrival. It had likewise reached the ears of Sancho’s 
wife Teresa, who ran to meet her husband; and seeing him 
not so well equipped as she thought a governor ought to be, 
she said, ‘‘What makes you come thus, dear husband.^^ me- 
thinks you come afoot, and foundered! This, I trow, is not as 
a governor should look.” 

“Peace, wife,” quoth Sancho. “Let us go home, and there 
you shall hear wonders. I have money, and honestly too, 
without wronging anybody.” “Hast thou money, good 
husband? — nay, then, ’tis well.” 

Teresa then taking him by the hand and at the same time 
pulling Dapple by the halter, they went home, leaving Don 
Quixote to the care of his niece and housekeeper, and in the 
company of the priest and the bachelor. 

Don Quixote, without waiting for a more fit occasion, 
immediately took the priest and bachelor aside, and briefly 
told them of his adventures. 

No sooner had his friends left him than the housekeeper 
and niece, who had been listening to their conversation, came 
to him. “Bless me, uncle!” cried the niece, “what has now 
got into your head?” 

“Peace, daughters,” answered Don Quixote, “for I know 
my duty; only help me to bed, for methinks I am not very 
well; and assure yourselves that whether a knight-errant or 
not, I will not fail to provide for you, as you shall find by 
experience.” The two good creatures then carried him to 
bed, where they brought him food, and attended upon him 
with all imaginable care. 

[ 285 ] 


THE ADVENTURES OF DON QUIXOTE 


Don Quixote now feeling an inclination to sleep, de^red 
that he might be left alone. They complied, and he slept full 
six hours at a stretch, so that the niece and housekeeper 
thought he would never wake more. At the end of that 
time, however, he awaked, and immediately exclaimed in 
an audible voice, ‘T feel, good sirs, that death advances fast 
upon me; let us, then, be serious^ and bring me a notary to 
draw up my will.” 

They looked at each other in surprise at his expressions 
and, though still dubious, they were inclined to believe him. 
The bachelor went for the notary, and presently after returned 
with hirn, followed by Sancho Panza, who having learned 
from the bachelor the hopeless situation of his master, and 
seeing the niece and housekeeper in tears, he also began to 
weep like the rest. 

The notary now entered the room with the others, and 
after the preamble of the will had been written, and Don 
Quixote had dispofsed of his soul in the usual forms, coming 
to the distribution of his worldly goods, he directed the notary 
to write as follows: namely — it is my will that, in 
regard to certain monies which Sancho Panza, whom in the 
wildness of my folly I called my squire, has in his custody, 
there being between him and me some reckonings, receipts, 
and disbursements, he shall not be charged with them, nor 
called to any account for them.; but if, after he has paid him- 
self, there should be any overplus, which will be but little, it 
shall be his own, and much good may it do him: and if, as 
in my distracted state I procured him the government of an 
island, I could, now that I am in my senses, procure him that 
[ 286 ] 


THE ADVENTURES OF DON QUIXOTE 

of a kingdom, I would readily do it; for the simplicity of his 
heart, and the fidelity of his dealings, well deserve it.” Then 
turning to Sancho, he said, “Forgive me, friend, for perverting 
thy understanding, and persuading thee to believe that there 
were, and still are, knights-errant in the world.” 

“Alas! good sir,” replied Sancho, “do not die, I pray you; 
but take my advice, and live many years. Good your wor- 
ship, be not idle, but rise and let us be going to the field, 
dressed like shepherds, and who knows but behind some bush 
or other we may find the Lady Dulcinea disenchanted as 
fine as heart can wish.^” 

The will was then closed; and being seized with a fainting- 
fit, he stretched himself out at length in the bed, at which all 
were alarmed, and hastened to his assistance; yet he survived 
three days: often fainting during that time in the same 
manner, which never failed to cause much confusion in the 
house: nevertheless, the niece ate, the housekeeper drank, 
and Sancho Panza consoled himself — for legacies tend much 
to moderate grief that nature claims for the deceased. At 
last, after expressing h'is abhorrence, in strong and pathetic 
terms, of the wicked books by which he had been led astray, 
Don Quixote’s last moment arrived. The notary was present, 
and protested he had never read in any book of chivalry of a 
knight-errant dying in his bed in so composed and Christian 
a manner as Don Quixote, who, amidst the plaints and tears 
of all present, resigned his breath — I mean to say, he died. 
This was the end of that extraordinary gentleman of La 
Mancha. 


[ 287 ] 




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